Forgive Me Lord For I Have Imagined A Life Far More Soft And Tender Than The One You Created For Me

LADY STRONG

Benjicot Blackwood x Velaryon/Strong!Reader

Summary - Stuck in the Riverland's on a marriage tour, you pretend to be Lady Strong when Benjicot Blackwood doesn't recognize you as the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms

Warnings - none except not edited!!

Word Count - 3.1k

!MINORS DNI!

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

As if the prospect of a marriage tour was not horrid enough, your first stop was proving to be positively dreadful.  

You had imagined the lands surrounding the Trident to be beautiful. A lush, verdant landscape—filled with fragrant herbs and bright, blooming flowers, painting the Riverlands in rich, colorful hues. You pictured babbling streams and plush grass, stunning castles and, perhaps, some equally as stunning men.  

What you hadn’t imagined, however, was the weather.  

Even from within the confines of Riverrun—the ancestral castle of House Tully—you still feel the effects of the merciless heat beating down upon the sandstone walls.  

Your handmaids had tried to dress you accordingly, stuffing you into your thinnest—and, consequently, your least regal—gown, in hopes that it might prevent sunstroke. Yet still, even as three of Lord Tully’s own servants try fanning you while you sulk in the dining hall, you feel as though every inch of your body is drenched in sticky sweat.  

“This is miserable,” you groan to Ser Lorent, the Kingsguard who had been assigned to your tour. Flanking your right, you spare the knight a pitiful, sidelong glance. “I believe I would sooner die a spinster than be forced to live in this sweltering purgatory!”  

The servants, haphazardly positioned around the table, remain utterly stone-faced, not letting on if they found your comment about their homelands to be humorous or offensive.  

Ser Lorent merely laughs. “The Riverlands are known for their humid summers, princess.” With a wink, he adds, “If you ever bothered with your studies, you would know this.”  

“I study!”  

“With the blade, perhaps,” Ser Lorent muses, his teal eyes twinkling with lighthearted mockery. “But certainly not with books, princess.  

Rolling your eyes, you slump further into your chair, your body practically melting into the upholstery. “Leave the geography lessons to Jace,” you tell him, waving an idle hand. “After all, he is the heir to the Iron Throne. I am only the prized broodmare—” focusing on your plate, and the half-eaten lunch upon it, you try swallowing the bitter tang now filling your mouth—“a royal womb to be sold off to the highest bidder.”  

And, at times, you aren’t even sure if that is considered an honest truth… You’ve certainly never felt royal.  

Like your brothers, you were born extraordinarily plain-featured. With no silver hair or lilac eyes, you appear more like a common-born peasant than someone of prized Valyrian stock—and it didn’t help that, unlike your brothers, you had no dragon, either.  

Ser Lorent watches as you absently push a piece of seared cod around your plate, sighing. “That isn’t true, my princess.” His words are tinged with sympathy. “You are being sold to no one. Your mother wishes for you to have a marriage born of love—not duty.”  

“Ah, yes,” stabbing the fish with the prongs of your fork, you bring it to your lips, “which is why I’m being forced to spend my summer meeting with the haughty sons of fat country lords—for love.”  

His tongue clicks with disapproval. “Your mother has given you a choice in selecting your own husband, princess; which is a luxury not granted to many women.”  

Frowning, you pop the piece of fish into your mouth, turning his words over in your head.  

Gods.  

You hate it when he’s right.  

“Fine,” you relent, still chewing. Turning sideways in your chair, you raise your fork to him in a mock threat, “But my earlier statement stands! If I must take a husband, then it certainly won’t be anyone from here—lest I become no more than a puddle of sweat.”  

Ser Lorent cracks a smile at you. “Should you turn to a puddle, princess, then I vow to mop you from the floor.”  

“How valiant of you, Ser Lorent,” you laugh. “I’m unsure of how I might ever repay you for such loyalty.”  

“I’m not sure you have to worry about that, princess—I don’t believe that puddles are much concerned with matters of debt.”  

Turning back to the table, another soft laugh spills from your lips. “I suppose you’re right, Ser.”  

All too soon, however, your amusement begins to fade. A warm breeze blows in through the many open windows lining Riverrun’s dining hall, the stifling air only accentuating the stickiness of your skin.  

Sucking in a deep, heavy breath, you ask, “How long do we have?”  

Ser Lorent doesn’t ask for clarification, knowing almost at once what you were asking him. “We’re expected back in the Great Hall in a little under an hour, princess.”  

You blow the breath out, groaning slightly.  

An hour—that was all the time you had left before you would be forced back upon the dais, expected to once again smile and be cordial as men and boys from all across the Riverlands made their case for your hand.  

How many of them could possibly be left? This morning alone you had met with dozens upon dozens of them, their voices all blurring into a monotonous hum as they spoke of the history of their Houses—if one considers nonsensical legends from the ancient Age of Heroes as true history, that is.  

Noticing the dreadful pall cast over you, Ser Lorent clamps a comforting hand on your shoulder. “How about a walk before we go back? It might help to clear your head,” he suggests. Then, with a wry grin, “Perhaps you might wish to think back on the men from this morning—see if any of them might make you change your tune about life in the Riverlands.”  

You pin him with a playful scowl. “There’s not a man alive that could change that tune,” you vow. “But you’re right—a walk might be nice.”  

Rising from your seat, the servants around you lower their fans, silently dismissing themselves.  

“Will you be accepting my company on this walk?” Ser Lorent teases—though you know what he’s really asking is: will you be accepting my protection.  

“After this morning, I believe I’ve had enough company for a lifetime.”  

The knight’s brow draws tight, an apprehensive frown beginning to pull at the corners of his lips. You roll your eyes.  

“Oh, don’t worry so much, Ser Lorent. It gives you wrinkles,” you tease. Adjusting the slit running along one side of your dress, you reveal the dagger holstered on your thigh. “I assure you that if any of these Riverlanders dare lay a hand on me, they’ll lose some fingers.”  

Ser Lorent snorts, head shaking. “It’s not you I worry about, princess,” he jokingly admits. “Just stay close by, understand? Your mother will have my head if anything happens to you.”  

“Yes, yes—understood,” you dramatically gripe, already walking past him to the exit.  

“Oh, and princess?” He calls out just as the guards pull the doors open for you to leave. You glance over your shoulder at him, brows lifted. “At least try not to injure anyone.”  

With one last roll of your eyes, bright with mischief, you shout on your way out, “No promises, Ser Lorent!”  

Wandering through the outer yards of Riverrun, the blistering sun beating down upon your skin, you find yourself overwhelmed by a sudden ache in your chest.  

You miss home. Desperately.  

You miss Dragonstone’s near-constant cover of clouds, forever shielding you from the heat. You miss the cool breeze rolling in off the Blackwater, the air peppering your cheeks with salty kisses.  

But, even as you dream of a reprieve from the muggy Riverlands, you can’t help but miss your family—your brothers—most of all.  

Perhaps it is that feeling that led you here, to the training yard, guided by the familiar lull of splintering wood and steel slicing through the air, the sound offering a much-needed remedy to the homesickness twisting in your gut.  

Smaller than the one at Dragonstone, Riverrun’s yard was no more than a cramped stretch of dusty-dirt, lined with old training dummies and archery targets. Mostly encircled by the towering sun-bleached stones of the castles, only a small part of the yard remained open to the sprawling gardens beyond, sectioned off by ornate iron fencing.  

Striding over the open gate, your attention falls upon the lone boy standing in the yard's center.  

As the sunlight beats down overhead, long shadows dance around his feet as he glides through a set of movements—each step calculated, every strike deliberate.  

You step closer, keeping your steps light as you approach. With his back turned to you, you watch as sweat drips down his neck, glistening. It soaks into his tunic, the thin black material clinging to his lean, muscled back.  

He’s talented—you think, lips pursed as you study his form.  

Talent was something you were familiar with—intimately. You were raised around warriors—trained by the Rogue Prince himself—and yet never before have you found yourself so utterly bewitched by a fighter.  

He didn’t move like other boys.  

He wasted no time on the flowery style displayed by so many summer children—the ones who thought of battle as a performance rather than a matter of life or death.  

Instead, he moved with the lethal prowess of an apex predator—his blade cutting through the air with a controlled ferocity that, while lacking the flourish of other warriors, was undeniably impressive.  

Dirt flies as he throws himself into another set of movements—a series of strikes and parries, executing with unbelievable precision. With every twist and pivot, muscles tense and shift beneath his tunic, his body as powerful a weapon as his sword.  

He lunges forward—and wood cracks! as he slashes his blade along the belly of one of the dummies, a move that would have disemboweled a living opponent.  

Cutting through the sudden stillness, you bring your hands up to your chest, filling the yard with a slow clap. Back still turned to you, the boy's spine goes ramrod straight at the unexpected sound.  

“Impressive,” you muse, taking another step towards him. Mere feet remain between the two of you, now. “You move well—better than most, I’d say.”  

The boy spins around to face you, his once elegant movements now blundering as he nearly trips over his own feet. Biting your tongue, you try to hold in a laugh.  

Big, storm-cloud eyes meet your gaze, pinning you in place as he blinks, visibly thrown-off by your presence. “Sorry-” he stammers, out of breath. “I didn’t think anyone else would be coming out here-”  

You lift a hand, cutting him off with a smile. “Oh, no—don’t apologize on my account! I enjoyed the show,” you tell him. “Seems that you have a real talent for swordplay.”  

His cheeks flush, his lightly sun-kissed skin turning a stark crimson. “Thanks.” His laugh is a nervous, awkward thing—endearing, too. He sticks a hand out towards you, the other still limply holding his sword. “Benjicot. Blackwood,” he introduces himself, fumbling over his words, “but you can call me Ben or Benji—or anything, really.”  

You take his hand, biting your lip to mask your amusement. “Pleasure to meet you, Benji.”  

A beat of silence passes before confusion finally tugs at his features, his hand falling back to his side. “Uhm—” another sweet, awkward laugh— “and you are…?”  

Realization dawns on you, leaving your brows to shoot up to your hairline.  

Seven Hells!—he doesn’t know who you are, does he?!  

Your jaw goes slack, a sudden speechlessness grabbing hold of your tongue.  

You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised—after all, you weren’t what many expected of a Targaryen princess. Plain-featured and dressed in thin, common clothes, you imagine you likely appear no different than the servants surrounding you at lunch, fanning you to keep the heat from going to your head.  

Even so, it was rare that you met someone who didn’t know who you were. And, selfishly, after a morning filled with insincere compliments from haughty Lord’s, you like the idea of remaining nameless—titleless—for the first time in your life.  

“Wow—sorry—that was thoughtless of me, wasn’t it?” Tapping a finger to your temple, you laugh. “I’m Mylissa,” you lie, stealing the name of one of your handmaidens. “Mylissa Strong.”  

“Strong?” He echoes, brow furrowing. “Strange—you don’t sound like you’re from the Riverlands. Your accent is—”  

“Southern?”  

Benji nods.  

“Well, I’ve spent the better part of my life in the Crownlands, so I suppose I’ve picked up their accent,” you explain. “I’m here with the princess, actually—as her lady-in-waiting.”  

The mention of the princess—you—turns his skin a pasty white.  

Keeping a tight leash on your curiosity, you try not to sound too intrigued when you ask, “And what about you? Raventree Hall is a decent ride from here, is it not?” On horseback, the ancestral seat of House Blackwood was two days away from Riverrun, if not three. “Are you here to meet with the princess?”  

Benji shifts his weight, leaning from one foot to the other. “Supposed to,” he begins, his words tumbling out, “but I don’t know—I’m not so sure that I’ll go through with it.”  

Your expression falters, disappointment washing over you like a cold wave, combatting the intolerable warmth of the sun.  

“Why not?”  

He shrugs—a timid, shy gesture that feels so unlike the predator you had snuck up on. “There are over a hundred men in there,” he waves an arm to the castle, to the Great Hall within, “all waiting for an opportunity to impress the princess—meanwhile, I can hardly get out a single sentence without choking on my own spit.”  

Your laughter bubbles up involuntarily, a few giggles spilling past your lips. The Blackwood boy shoots you a playful glare from beneath long, dark lashes.  

“Well,” you begin, absentmindedly toeing the dirt between you, “perhaps the princess might find it endearing, don’t you think?”  

I do find it endearing, you think.  

Benji scoffs. “Doubtful. I mean, think about it!—she’s a princess!”  

Your eyes widen, glimmering with mock-offense. “And what is that supposed to mean?”  

Once again, that crimson tinge returns to his skin, crawling up his neck, this time.  

“I meant no offense,” he defends himself, mistaking your expression for one of a Lady meaning to back her princess. “But what could I possibly offer a princess?”  

You tilt your head, pretending to think on his words. “Well, the Blackwoods do have a history of being valiant warriors, do they not? And you seem to be quite skilled yourself,” you say, daring to let your stare drift down to his arms, the short sleeves of his tunic revealing well-muscled, sweat-slick biceps.  

He snorts. “I’m willing to guess that the princess would likely care naught for my skill with a sword.”  

“Then you would guess wrong,” you retort, a faint, teasing smile on your lips. “Many say that the princess herself is quite skilled with a blade—I imagine she would quite like a boy that’s capable of challenging her.”  

Benji’s eyes darken a shade, an unreadable expression crossing his features. “And what about you, Mylissa?”  

The false name catches you off-guard, but you do your best to hide it.  

“What of me?”  

A bit nervous, he asks, “Would you like a boy that can challenge you?”  

Your heart stutters in your chest—skipping several beats as his stare lowers, dipping past your waist and falling upon your thigh. On the dagger sheathed there, no doubt.  

Heat begins to crawl up your neck, hotter even than the sun's blistering rays. “Oh—” You stutter, words lost upon you.  

It’s true that you were used to the attention of men. After all, your morning has been filled with it, and soon enough the rest of your day will be, too.  

But this was different.  

Benji wasn’t giving you attention because you’re a princess, a mere royal womb to strengthen his House’s bloodline. Rather, he was doing it simply because he wanted to—a feeling that was utterly foreign to you.  

Wiping a clammy hand on his sweaty tunic, Benji misreads your silence, taking a half-step back. “Apologies, my Lady—that was far too forward and-”  

You don’t let him finish his rambling. Taking a step forward, you close the gap he sought to create between you. “I’ll make you a deal.”  

“A deal?”  

You nod. “As you know, the princess will be in the Great Hall for the rest of the evening, holding court with the other Lord’s who’ve come for her hand. I'd like for you to meet with her.”  

Benji cocks his head, confusion crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I truly mean no disrespect to your princess, my Lady, but I was asking if you might be interested in–”  

“I know what you’re asking, Benji.” You lift one shoulder in a casual shrug. “And after you meet with the princess, if you still wish to inquire about my hand,” you say, placing a palm to your chest, “then I will happily hear you out.”  

In the distance, a bell sounds out—signaling the time, you realize.  

“If you’ll excuse me,” you start, already taking a few small half-steps backwards. “I’m expected inside.”  

Letting his sword drop to the ground, Benji lunges forward to catch your wrist. “So you agree to meet with me after court, then?”  

“If you’re still interested,” you muse, a tinge of anxiety laced through your tone, “then yes.”  

The corners of his lips twitch into a bashful smile. “I give you my word that–”  

You planned to interrupt him. To tell him not to make oaths he wasn’t certain he could keep, knowing that he may very well change his mind about you once he realizes who you are—that you’re not technically a Strong. But, before you can, another voice intervenes.  

“Princess!” Ser Lorent calls out, exasperated, as he walks through the gate. “We must hurry, princess,” he continues, pausing only to give a wary glance at Benji’s hands wrapped around your wrist. “We’re late.”  

Your pulse begins to pound, a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins at being exposed as a liar by Ser Lorent. 

Benji’s face goes blank—then his eyes go wide, big as saucers as you snag your wrist from his grip.  

“Princess?” He utters, voice laden with disbelief. “Princess?!”  

You can hardly bring yourself to do anything other than grin stupidly at him, nearly stumbling over yourself as you back-up to where Ser Lorent is waiting impatiently.  

“It was lovely meeting you, Benji!”  

You hope he can hear just how genuine your words are.  

“I’ll see you in the Great Hall,” you call out over your shoulder, sparing him one last glance as Ser Lorent guides you to the gate, watching as he blinks in astonishment, still processing the revelation.  

Walking back towards the inner-castle, Ser Lorent glances down at you with a knowing look. “You seem giddy.” There’s a teasing glint to his words that makes you roll your eyes, cheeks flushing. “So,” he continues, his brisk pace never faltering, “does this mean that your statement from lunch no longer stands? That, perhaps, this sweltering purgatory may yet grow on you?”  

You bite your cheek, a permanent grin still etched onto your face.  

“Let’s just say that I’ve decided it’s best to keep my options open, Ser Lorent.”  

a/n - you may ask yourself: lainie, why would you refer to him as mostly BEN in the last fic and BENJI in this one??

and the answer? I have not ONE clue. my brain is rotting and benji is cute.

anyways, hope you guys enjoy this one! feel like I got to explore more of his personality here. additionally, I need HBO to know that if this boy ends up not being benjicot blackwood then I'm gonna fucking riot

benjicot blackwood tag list - @a-song-for-ages @ghostinvenus

BUY ME PRESENTS | draco malfoy

summary; draco loves you, and you love him. he just needs a little push to make things official. OR, draco malfoy fighting for his life when he realises just how much everyone wants his girl.

word count; 8928

notes; this is based on christmas eve, but I'm posted a couple days later! this fic puts us half way through our slytherin boy holidays! I'm not sure how the one I expected to be the shortest became the longest one so far. like, seriously, I know I keep saying this but wtf? why can't I write a short fic?

Dinner had already been served by the time you made it to the Grand Hall, the smells of roasted meats and seasoned potatoes filling the air, your mouth watering as you navigated between the throngs of people. Your seat had been saved, of course. A spot on the bench between Draco and Daphne, and as you neared, your friends noticed, smiles rising and waves in your direction. 

Sinking into your seat, you pressed a kiss to the cheek of the blond boy beside you, his face tipping up to receive it and lips twisting into a smile, attention moving to you as you sat. 

“Good day?”

“Better now that it’s over.” You smiled, a chuckle falling from him, and his hand came to rest upon your thigh, squeezing comfortingly while you helped yourself to a plate of whatever food was left. “What are we talking about, what did I miss?”

“Not much. Just Theo telling us all about Christmas in Italy.” Mattheo rolled his eyes, as though you all hadn't heard this exact same speech since that very first Christmas you’d become friends. Most of the group seemed to have simply tuned it out, laughing and nodding at the correct times as they whispered their own conversations. 

A swipe of a thumb over your thigh as you finished filling your plate with food, and you shifted your attention to Draco. “So, what are your Christmas plans, Dray?”

Shuffling a little bit closer now that your plate was full, his arm moved to lay across your shoulders instead, letting you snuggle up into his side. “Oh, you know, the usual.” 

He smiled, and your world seemed to get a little bit brighter, his lips brushing your hairline as he left a barely-present kiss there. 

“Typical Malfoy-family Christmas. I get to do the tour with my parents, visiting every other rich-arsehole couple they know. Christmas Eve party. The pleasure of my father’s annual ‘you’re growing up now, son, it’s time to get serious about the world’ over the dinner table on Christmas Day. Open some presents I don’t want, on a schedule I don’t like.” He sighed, clearly used to it by now, but it didn’t make it sound any less awful.

“Well,” You smile, nudging him playfully with your elbow. “Maybe we could write to one another, or even get a little visit in?” 

The hope in your voice was evident, and Pansy gave you an encouraging smile across the table. You’d been meaning to ask Draco this question for weeks now, and your last chance had been fast approaching. Since the summer, you and Draco had been hooking up. It was no secret among your friends, or even the students; your affections for one another were hardly contained, but it wasn't official. 

You wanted the labels, the security, and the safety of knowing that he was yours and you were his, and nobody else could come between you. You wanted to be introduced to his parents, be his date at events, to have him be proud to call you his girl. But Draco had been hesitant, avoiding every conversation that might inch into the ‘so, what are we?’ territory, keeping a safe distance from any kind of real commitment. 

It wasn’t enough for you anymore, not by a long shot, but trying to talk to Draco about it only ended up with him shutting it down, or skilfully diverting the conversation and you were growing tired of his games. 

Draco only made a vague noise, neither an agreement nor disagreement, and looked away from you as he picked up his drink to take a sip. “I don’t know… maybe. I can get pretty busy over the holidays, I’d hate to let you down.”

Another skill of his, making it seem like cancelling or delaying or not doing something at all was your idea. He was clearly hoping you’d brush it off, and tell him not to worry about it, but instead, you kept quiet. Not giving him the satisfaction of any easy win, this time. 

Pansy caught your eye across the table, shaking her head disapprovingly, and shooting a glare at an oblivious Draco. She had been your confidant these last few months, every update and development in your situationship, she’d been informed of. Every decision, she’d been a part of. She was practically as invested as you were, at this point, and she certainly did not approve of his nonchalant behaviour either. 

“Speaking of parties,” Mattheo cut Theo off, clearly having had enough of the annual rehashing of ‘that one Christmas when Theo was eight’ for today, and changing the subject, “Who’s got their dates sorted for the Malfoy Christmas Eve Ball, and who’s daring to go solo and have Narcissa set them up like a matchmaker all night long?”

Chuckles rang out among the group, and Pansy smiled, leaning into Blaise’s side with a love-struck grin. “I think we’re safe this year.”

“I’m going solo, but, I did tell Aunty Cissa that I have my eye on a girl in one of my classes, and I’m seeing how it plays out. So, she’s not setting me up anytime soon, since she believes I’m already onto someone.” Enzo smirked, and Blaise congratulated him for his clever tactics. 

You smirked through your mouthful of food, listening to Mattheo explain his complex excuse, to Reggie mournfully spill the story of how he’s already been set up by his parents witha ‘potential bride to meet’, and how he hopes she doesn’t show up. You laugh with the others as Tom simply raises an eyebrow, knowing that even Narcissa doesn’t attempt to set him up anymore, lest he scare away any more of her friends’ daughters. Theo, ever the player he is, is looking forward to dancing with every single lady he can find, and taking his pick at the end of the night.

“I suppose nobody needs to ask Draco who his date will be.” Mattheo grins, wiggling his brows at the pair of you as you smile, leaning a little further into the man at your side. 

“Hey, who knows?” He chortles, and your eyes narrow a little, “I’ve had plenty of offers. I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

“Oooh.” Enzo’s eyes went wide, the other boys joining in, and Pansy fixed him with a glare. Daphne leaned around you with her jaw dropped at his statement, and you sat up from his embrace, lips pressed flat and a brow raised. 

The boys snickered, ‘he’s in shit’ and ‘someone’s in the doghouse’, but he lived for the spotlight, a drama queen at heart, and he smirked down at you. 

“Oh, c’mon. Don’t look at me like that, babe.” The playful nickname was one he only ever used when joking around. When he was sincere, he was much more romantic; darling, sweetheart, beautiful. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Hi mum, hello father, meet the girl I’m skipping class to shag! Thanks for paying my tuition!’, I don’t think so.”

The boys all laughed, Daphne scoffed in sync with her sister behind you, and Pansy looked like she’d lunge across the table at any moment, if it wasn’t for her chastising Blaise for laughing, instead. ‘You and Draco can share that couch you’ll both be sleeping on tonight’, she’d said. ‘See how funny you think it is then’.

The words stung as he spoke them, dismantling your relationship down to the bare minimum; to sex and physical connection and nothing else. Like the nights spent talking until the sun came up were nothing, the times you’d held him while he cried, or washed him in the bath when he was so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open. Like he didn’t rub your stomach for hours every month when you got cramps, or had a stash of your favourite snacks in his bedside table for whenever you came over. 

You knew that Draco Malfoy lived you, just as much as you loved him. It was evident in everything he did, every kiss and every word. But, he needed a little push.

“I suppose you’re right,” You sigh lightly, giggling along with the laughing boys around the table. “I’m not so sure Lucius wouldn't burst a blood vessel then and there.”

“Exactly.” Draco hummed, and you glanced back to Pansy. She was shocked, only for a second, before taking in the subtle signs of mischief on your face. Her own smirk stretched out in return, and her gaze flickered once to Draco, before back to you. 

A new game was afoot, and Draco wasn’t going to stand a chance.

Slipping your coat from your shoulders, the annual Malfoy Christmas Eve Ball was well underway. Your parents had disappeared into the crowds before you’d even stepped out of the carriage, uncaring of where you were as long as you weren’t causing trouble. They were here to mingle with the other importants, and you were just here to learn the ropes of proper socialising.

The garment was taken from you, your small bag clutched in hand as a ticket was given to you for it, and you brushed down the front of your dress delicately. Pearls moved under your touch, beading along the bodice flat and perfected, and you felt your confidence rise as you looked at yourself once more in the reflection of a dark window. Adjusting the small lace gloves on each hand, you took a step towards the dining room. 

Elegant music was playing from a live band up on a stage, the room was decorated this year to look like a winter escape. Pale and frosty, like a palace of ice, twinkling lights and glittering decor, crisp white tablecloths and ice sculptures. A layer of goosebumps travelled along your skin at the sight of it all, despite the warming charms that took place for the guests. 

Scanning the room, you quickly found your table. The designated kids table, despite you all being legal adults and far beyond such status. You’d all be the babies of the ball until the new generation emerged, no doubt. Moving through the bodies and crowds of people politely, Theo was the first to glance up and spot you, his mouth falling open, and a rush of confidence took over as he raised two fingers to his lips and whistled. 

The sound caught the attention of the others’ chatter fading to quiet as they all turned to look for the object of his cat-calling, Enzo’s eyes widened, Pansy cheered loudly, and even Mattheo looked momentarily speechless. You’d had the same reaction when you’d seen yourself in the dress too, your stylist had truly outdone herself for this one. 

You looked flawless, and you looked expensive, and utterly elegant. Doing a little spin as you approached, a smile broke free on your lips as you stopped before the chair with your name card before it. 

“Merlin, babe,” Pansy started, drawing your attention straight her her, “You’ve got every eye on you tonight. If I was single, I’d be all over you.” 

She winked when you laughed, and Blaise rolled his eyes but smiled, leaning in to kiss her cheek affectionately. 

“Pretty necklace,” She commented, and your fingers rose to the pretty string of pearls and diamonds that you had. 

“It was a gift,” You simply hummed, tugging at your gloves. Glancing at the others, you gave each a polite smile, eyes lingering on Draco as he stared. In any other style, this dress would be scandalous for an event like this. A low neckline, spaghetti straps, no sleeves. Tight and fitted to every curve of your body, and yet the classic designs and vintage nature elevated it to the kind of class Audrey Hepburn would be proud of. 

He looked just as good, a dark suit, a fresh white shirt, a champagne-coloured tie that made the colour of his eyes and his hair stand out and your mouth dried out a little. Silver rings adorned his fingers, the Malfoy signet standing out, clenched so tightly around his whiskey glass that his knuckles were almost white. 

You’d worn soft, golden makeup effects today, a dusting of glitter along your cheekbones and eyelids, a shade of pink on your cheeks and lips that you knew was his weakness. 

“Someone really wanted your attention with that, huh?” Your best friend teased, and your eyes snapped away from Draco, back to her. 

“I suppose so,” You muse, hand coming up to touch one of the beads on your ear, “Since they also got me this lovely pair of matching earrings.”

Pansy made a dramatic show of admiring them, and Blaise gave a funny look, glancing at the jewellery, and then back at Draco, who was frowning. Before you could reach for your chair after placing your clutch down, Enzo was shooting to his feet from beside you, tugging out the chair for you. 

Draco scoffed as you gave him a thank you, settling into your seat, and he glared at the man beside you. Enzo didn’t flinch, however, smirking at Draco as he spoke;

“What? It’s called being a gentleman, cousin.”

Crossing your leg delicately, you’d hardly even removed your gloves, before a tray was coming down by your side, and a young waiter with a dazzling smile was looking right at you. 

“Champagne, ma’am?” Not a planned pawn in your game, but a welcome addition, you smiled sweetly in return. 

“Oh, I’d love some. Thank you.” Taking the single glass by the stem, you lifted it from the tray and the man’s smile stretched wider as you sipped the bubbly, holding his eye. 

“Of course, miss. If you need anything, anything at all, I’ll be at the bar, happy to serve.” His flirting was heavy enough that normally you’d want to roll your eyes, but tonight, you suppressed that urge, playing into it as you bat your lashes. 

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. Thank you.”

He took the dismissal, staring appreciatively as he walked away, another look over his shoulder to you as you watched him go. 

“Stop eye-fucking the help.” Draco snapped, and your focus moved to him slowly, just to find his icy glare on you. He didn’t scare you, though, all that mean bravado, but you knew what was underneath. 

“I was doing no such thing.” You tut, placing down your drink. “Don’t be jealous, Dray. You look even better in that suit. If you want compliments, just ask. No need to be mean.”

He seemed rather placated by this, his ego settling down, even if the others did laugh at him.

The conversation seemed to continue around you as you settled in, avoiding Draco’s heated stare and sipping at your champagne. The rush of warming alcohol through your veins settled every dancing nerve, and gave you the calm confidence to do what you had planned. Sitting forwards, just enough, you angled your body so that Draco might have the perfect view over your cleavage as you feigned interest in the chatter around you. 

He took the bait, his gaze falling right where you wanted it, the gems of your necklace dangling just over the swell of your breasts, and he licked his lower lip, pulling it between his teeth.

Raising your hands and catching the swinging gem, you toyed with it carefully, letting it run over your fingers. Time melted away as Draco’s gaze flicked between your nimble touch, your lips, and your chest, shuffling in his seat every so often, and gulping at the bubbly in his glass. 

He was on his third refill by the time food started to be taken around, and you took pity on him momentarily, sitting back in your chair and angling away from him, ready to receive your first course. 

As the starters came around, you turned to thank your waiter, surprised to see it was the same man from the bar who had brought you your champagne. You’d given him little thought since he’d walked away, and you’d never spotted him again, but perhaps that was exactly why he was delivering your food now, as he beamed at you and set down the plate. 

Men did love a little attention, after all. 

Reaching for the bottle of champagne cooling in the centre of the table, the waiter never looked away from you as he refilled your glass without being asked. Draco finally seemed to notice as he finished adjusting his napkin, gaze narrowing on the man serving you. “You’ve got to be kidding me…” He muttered.

You pretended to take no notice, smiling at the man and waving your fingers flirtily as he walked away.

“I’m going to get another drink at the bar,” He announced, leaving without his glass and without asking if anyone else wanted one. You knew where he was truly going, if the lock of his jaw and the stamp in his step were any indication. You doubted you’d be seeing that waiter again.

As you poked at your food, Pansy excused herself too, only a few bites into her meal before she disappeared with a wicked grin and no explanation to anyone. Enzo just chuckled beside you, glancing around the room like he was watching all the cogs of a machine in motion, before turning his gaze on you. “You do look lovely tonight, do you know that?”

“Of course I do. I spent days on end trying on dress after dress to find this.” You sighed, admiring the gorgeous piece of art on your body as you set your cutlery down. 

“And is it serving the purpose you need it to?” He teased, voice knowing, and you nodded. Flicking your gaze over the patrons and guests in the room, you searched for Draco, finding him talking politely to one of his mother’s friends at the bar. 

“It is, I think.”

“Let’s hope it stays that way.” He whispered, your focus still on the man who truly held your heart, who was making his polite excuse and walking way, back towards you all. His gaze locked on yours, only for a second, before Pansy was calling your name and drawing your focus elsewhere. 

When you looked up to her, she was grinning, a man by her side. “This is Elliot, he’s been wanting to meet you for some time. I promised him I’d introduce you both tonight.”

You offered the best smile you could as his cheeks reddened, and Pansy merely patted him on the shoulder, slinking away as you offered your hand to him. “Lovely to meet you, Elliot.”

“You too. As embarrassing as that introduction was, it’s true. I have wanted to meet you for some time.” He had a kind smile and pretty eyes, and he seemed far too nice to be dragged into your game tonight, but he seemed almost like a willing participant, and you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. As Draco took his seat, Elliot continued, “Pansy has told me so much about you. You know, if you’re free one day before you go back to that fancy boarding school of yours, I’d love to take you out.”

“Yeah? What have you got in mind?” You smile, twisting a little more to face him, and your encouragement only brightens his expression as Draco’s darkens in your peripheral.

“A night in London, perhaps. We could get dinner, and see the opera?”

“She doesn’t like the opera.” Draco sneered, openly staring at Elliot with enough contempt to scare away lesser men. Elliot tugged at his collar, glancing at Draco, and then back to you as you tried to hide your shock at his behaviour.

“The theatre, then?”

Draco looked ready to snap again, and before he could, you nodded, sparing your unwilling partner. “That sounds wonderful, I’ll see what my schedule says. I’ll get in touch with you through Pansy if I can find the time, is that okay?”

“Perfect.” He smiled, sneaking another wary glance at Draco who was not backing down from glaring at him unflinchingly, but Elliot shook it off, bravely. “It was a pleasure to meet you, truly.”

“And you, Elliot.”

Soon after he left, the plates were being cleared. You tried not to smirk as a different waiter, and one who very pointedly did not so much as even catch your gaze, cleared your dishes away at record speed. 

You knew that Draco had something, everything, to do with that. He was jealous by nature, a spoilt single child who did not like to share his favourite toys, and that is exactly what you were betting on tonight.

You stood, taking a lap around the room with Pansy to settle your food before the next course, and to get another drink. She took the opportunity to fill you in on how her first Christmas event with Blaise’s family had gone, and when you returned, you made sure to surreptitiously place yourself behind Draco’s chair. 

You placed a hand on his shoulder, a friendly gesture, squeezing and rubbing enough that your thumb swept over his collar and across his neck. His pulse jumped under your touch, and he tipped his head closer, into your touch. 

As he did so, your heart leapt in your chest. To others, it might look like a friendly gesture but to you, it meant so much more. You were tempted to cave then and there, to live with this being enough, to settle, but you couldn't. You didn’t want this to be it, you wanted to follow this by leaning down to kiss him, to have him smile against your lips in public the way he did when you were alone. 

To arrive at these events together, arms linked, and to stumble out tiredly together too. To sit by him, his hand on your thigh, to rest your head on his shoulder, to kiss him on the dance floor. The thought was enough to push you through. 

He twisted his head, to kiss your hand like he often did when you did this. Carefully, you slipped your hand away just in time, knuckles brushing across the nape of his neck as you stepped away, and back to your seat. 

His sights moved to you, but like a saving grace, the servers began to appear with more dishes, and dinner soon distracted you all. A delicious serving of salmon and potatoes, and the hall fell quiet enough for you to hear the beautiful music playing when chatter fell low. 

Low conversation, drinks refilled, and that perfect mood set across the room, as people took to the tables and quieted down. Your favourite part of the night, usually. Good food, your friends, and a chance to catch up without the usual weight of it all sitting on you. Regulus was talking, telling the rare story that had him caught up in a long conversation where he usually just observed quietly, but your attention was fixed on your lover. 

Until, Theo spoke up. 

“Oh, merda,” He muttered across Reggie’s’ story, his gaze cutting to you alarmingly quickly. “I forgot to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” Your heart skipped a beat, a flash of panic.

“My cousin flew in last minute for the party, and he wants to speak to you.” Theo’s words soothed your panic, and you offered him a flat look for the dramatic way he’d put it. Taking a sip from your glass, you raised a brow.

“When?”

“Now.” He confirmed, sights lifting to sit just behind you, and before you could even turn, a chair was being pulled up beside your own from another table. Turning your head to the owner, a smile burst across your face at the man sitting before you. 

“Dario!” Your arms were around his neck before you could stop yourself, and he was chuckling as he bundled you into an equally enthusiastic hug. He chuckled lightly, pulling back only far enough to press a friendly kiss to your cheek, and you cupped his face as you parted from him. “You’re growing a beard!”

“My mother hates it.” He chuckled, rubbing a hand over it. As you twisted a little more towards him, he reached down, practically manhandling you as he reached for the edge of your seat by your legs, tugging it sideways to face him. You squealed as the chair jolted, screeching on the floor, tugging you closer as he leaned in. “Sei incantevole.”

“Are you charming me in Italian?” You smirk, a boyish smile on his face as he lounged back in his seat. “What are you doing here, anyway? Theo said none of you were flying in this year! I thought you couldn't make it.”

“I couldn't,” He sighed, shrugging, “But, then I heard that you would be here, without a date, and I knew I just had to make it. So, here I am, la mia bella donna. You think a short flight from Italy would stop me rushing over here to you?”

Your giggle was against your control. Even if he was more like family than a romantic interest, the way his accent twisted around coyly spoken words, was enough to bring a blush to even the most unreceptive woman’s face. “Cut it out, you flirt.”

“You’ll save me a dance later, right?”

“We’ll see.” He rose his brow, and you lifted your glass, taking a sip of bubbly to hide your smile, leaving him hanging. “Depends on how much more of your cheesy flirting I can endure.”

“You mean my wonderful Italian charm?” He teased, pinching one of your cheeks, and deepening the flush he had already created. “Don’t think I don’t see the way I make you blush.

You could only scoff, mouth dry as you tried to think of a retort, and you didn’t miss Theo muttering in Italian behind you, curse words you’d picked up on tumbling from his mouth. 

“Perhaps this can convince you,” Dario reaches for his inner pocket, producing a small, slim box. An excited squeak breaks from you as he hands it over, your fingers brushing the elegant leather, an Italian name embossed across the front. “Open it later, alright?”

You could only nod, admiring it happily, before slipping the box safely inside of your clutch. He took your hand, kissing your knuckles as he stood. A final wink as he offered you hid charming goodbyes, and a farewell to the rest of the table, before returning his borrowed chair to where he had taken it from. 

You watched as your friend left, disappearing into the crowd, no doubt to mingle and socialise as he had always been so good at, before you swung back around in your chair. 

“He taught you everything you know, huh, Nott?”

Theo only shrugged, a cheeky grin on his face. “What can I say, tesoro? We Nott men just have charm. We’ll woo your panties right off.” He winked, the cockiness not lasting long as Draco swung at him, a fist landing roughly on his arm as the Malfoy heir scowled, glaring at his best friend. 

“Cut it out.” He growled the words through gritted teeth, and your hand shot up, rubbing at your lip to hide your grin as Draco made no effort to hide his own emotions. Theo only laughed, rubbing at the patch on his arm he’d taken the hit.

Dessert was served, a beautiful display of ice cream and winter berries that almost looked too good to eat. The key word being almost. You hadn't been able to resist, however, and the first small groan you’d let out as the sugar hit your tongue had Draco’s gaze snapping straight to you. I did not leave, once, after. 

Instead, he watched, through a dark gaze, every curl of your lips around the spoon, every swipe of your tongue to catch the juice of burst berries. If you’d put on a little extra show, just for him, nobody else had to know. 

It was like he was staring right into your soul, so intense, even after the meal was long since finished. Finally, you indulged him once again, turning to look at him and raising a brow. “Yes, Draco?”

“You look beautiful tonight, I am simply admiring.” He let his gaze move across you slowly, making his admiration apparent, and his gaze lingered a fraction of a second longer on your neck. He stared at you with open adoration, the kind of look that told you exactly how he felt, even if he was fighting it, but he was close to breaking. He was close to losing this game he didn’t know he was playing. Then, his gaze flickered over your shoulder, sweet observation morphing. His brows drew together, his open hand slamming down on the table hard enough to make the glass rattle. “Oh, fucking hell…”

Mattheo erupted with sudden laughter, loud and brash, and there was a tap on your shoulder before you could even ask him what had him in such hysterics. A young man you did not know, perhaps a few years younger than you, and glanced around the table to see which of your friends had put this one together. Each seemed to have caught on in their own time, and had a hand in adding to the fun, to watch Draco suffer more, but none of them were laying any claim to this one. 

“I’ve been watching you all evening, and you are beautiful.” He smiled, stuttering over his words slightly, and Draco made no shy show of his disdain, rolling his eyes and making a disapproving sound. “I was wondering if you might grant me the pleasure of a dance?”

“She would dance with you,” Enzo interrupted, before you could speak at all, leaning forward toward the edge of your chair from his own, and you could have kissed him in gratitude for saving you. “But, she promised me her first dance. Isn’t that right, love? And I think now is the perfect time. Let’s go.”

Offering you his hand, you took it, letting him sweep you away without a second’s delay, navigating you both to the dance floor and twirling you expertly into his arms. One hand clasped your own, the other sitting at a respectable place on your waist, your own on his shoulder, and he fell into the well-rehearsed steps of a classical ballroom dance he’d been doing since he could walk. 

You let out a shaky sigh, relief flooding your veins as you looked back to your seat, noticing that the boy had taken Enzo’s rejection well and disappeared, not hanging around and waiting for your return. 

“You’re killing him slowly, like a predator playing with its prey,” Enzo smirked, neither of you needing to clarify who you were talking about, as he brought up his cousin. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” He chuckled, spinning you out before pulling you back in, sharp actions that made you dizzy with their accuracy, and you grinned as he brought you tumbling right back into his arms, perfectly. If he’d been trying to win you over, his dancing alone would’ve had you swooning. “You just show up to a fancy event like this, dripping in diamonds and pearls and looking like a million bucks, supposedly single. You mean to tell me you didn’t know that all these rich London boys wouldn't descend on you like vultures?”

“Not my fault I’m single and hot, Enz.”

He just laughed, dipping you a little. “We do struggle, don’t we.” You wove between people, a happy silence falling between you both once again as he guided you over the floor, back and forth, “Are you, though? Single, I mean.”

“That is up to your cousin.”

“Touché.”

You continued to move, until your feet were sore from all the twirling, clinging to Enzo in fits of giggles as he spun and twirled and dipped you more, hands on your waist as he lifted you through the air, making a show of his dancing. 

He may have seemed altruistic in his gestures, sweeping in to save you and Draco from your dance with the boy, but he was using you too. Enzo was taking every opportunity to show off his moves to every lady around the room watching, a flirty smile on his face between conversations and he glanced around, and you wouldn't be surprised if he received more offers than Theo or Dario by the end of the night. 

As the third song came to an end, and the music fell for just a second, you panted slightly, arm around his neck now, looking up at him with flushed cheeks and a bright smile. “Can we take a break?”

“Tired, already? You only gave me three so far.” He smirked at the way your jaw dropped, your face going hot and you knew your cheeks were red. You untangled yourself from his body, barely making it a step away from his laughter before he wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you into his side. “Oh, c’mon. I thought the aim was to flirt and make him mad?”

“He’s not even here to listen!”

“I’m practising,” Enzo murmured, steering you towards the bar, and leaning on the wood as he flagged down the bartender. You were quickly served, by a woman who fawned over Enzo as she passed by, and you had to snap your fingers in front of his face to snap his gaze away from her retreating form. “So, how long are you going to make him—”

A tap on Enzo’s shoulder cut him off, and he turned to look, straightening up instantly from his slumped position. As soon as he moved so you could see, your relaxation melted away too, as you found yourself face to face with Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy. 

“Lorenzo, I’ve hardly had a chance to talk to you all evening. I want to ask you about your schoolwork.” The impressively formal and deep voice of Lucius Malfoy settled over your skin like fresh snow, cold but smooth, and you shuddered. 

Narcissa only chuckled lightly at her husband’s words, her eyes on you. “You’ve been busy, though. Who is your lovely lady?”

“Uncle Lucius, Aunt Cissa. This is my friend, (Y/n).”

It wasn’t exactly the circumstances you’d wanted to meet them under, but you smiled nonetheless, nerves running wild as you offered your hand to them both, shaking politely just as your parents had taught you. 

“Ah, (Y/n). Yes. I make a point of knowing all of Draco’s school friends, but I’m in business with your father, aren’t I?” Something like a small kernel of sweetness was buried in that statement, his interest in his son’s life, even if he tried to hide it behind formalities, but it wasn’t your place to comment. 

“Yes, sir. That is correct.”

“They’re very proud of your schoolwork. They were telling me about your latest project. You synthesised a new potion to grow murkweed faster, is that true?”

You were surprised he knew so much, your small project submitted for Herbology was the last thing you’d expected Lucius Malfoy to know of, or take an interest in, and your mouth felt like sandpaper as you tried to form words. “Yes. Yes, sir. That’s right.”

“Interesting.” That calculating gaze scanned over you, analysing you from head to toe, like he could see right through you with a single glance. “That is impressive, for someone of your age. I’d be open to learning more. Are you considering making a future out of your alchemy talents? I have connections that I could contact for you.” 

You were speechless, your stomach going wild with butterflies born of both excitement and anxiety. He smirked, a look that would set you on edge if you weren’t sure deep down that this was in your interests, not against them. 

“Perhaps we can discuss it more soon, when we next see you. With Enzo?”

Enzo’s arm around your waist shifted, a reassuring weight that you were sure had been your only grounding presence for this surreal conversation. He patted your hip encouragingly. “Oh, no, we aren’t…” 

Motioning between you both, Lucius’ brows furrowed, and Narcissa tried to hide her sigh.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Aunt Cissa. (Y/n) isn’t mine, though it is wonderful that you approve.” Before either could question him, or expand on their confusion, Enzo gave your waist a final rub, before removing his touch from you entirely, and stepping towards his family. “Shall we go and discuss schoolwork then, Uncle? You have questions, and I have answers. I hope the ones you want.”

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss (Y/l/n).” Lucius politely offered you his hand again, shaking it firmly, and that was about as friendly a dismissal as you’d ever get from him, you’d heard. This was only supported by the surprised look on Narcissa’s face, and the beam Enz gave you as he guided his uncle away. 

“I hope to see you again soon, (Y/n). You look wonderful this evening, thank you for coming.” Narcissa murmured, before following her husband and nephew, glancing back at you only once over her shoulder. She knew. The woman was far more cunning than she let on, the true embodiment of a sneaky Slytherin, observing quietly and taking everything in. Her eyes glinted. She knew you knew she knew, too.

Your heart was pounding, cheeks warm as you lifted your fingers to them cautiously. The disappointed waitress placed down two drinks before you, Enzo long gone without his, but you smiled at her with appreciation, fingers shaking a little as you lifted the glass to your lips to take a sip. 

You’d spoken to Draco’s parents. 

They’d liked you. Lucius had offered to put you onto the career path, and Narcissa had complimented your dress. A soft laugh of disbelief slipped free, your eyes sliding closed for just a second as you revelled in the moment. 

It hasn’t been what you’d set out for tonight, but it was far more than what you’d hoped for. Opening your eyes again, to head back to the table and find Draco, you were met by the sight of a stranger leaning before you on the bar, grinning down at you in amusement. “Hello.”

“Hi.” You gave a terse smile, and a single nod. “If you’ll excuse me—”

“I didn’t even get to ask you to dance yet. Saw you out on the floor with the Berkshire boy, earlier, and I thought—”

“I’m dancing with her next, mate. Piss off.” 

Draco rarely sounded that mad, a chill went down your spine as you felt an arm slide around your waist, tugging you back into his chest. “Dray…”

The stranger only scoffed, glaring at Draco as he wandered away, and your hand reached for his forearm on your body. He snatched it away too soon, however, tugging on your hip to turn you around. His jaw was clenched tight, eyes more frozen than the coldest glacier. “Dance with me.”

Not a request, and he didn’t wait for an answer, before plucking your drink from your hand and slamming it down onto the bar, guiding you back to the swaying bodies. Standing before you, you offered him your hand, your hand sitting lightly on his shoulder. He didn’t take the respectable route, instead, his arm wrapped tight around your waist, sweeping you close to his body, and beginning to move you both in simple steps. 

It was several minutes before he relaxed, your arm sliding further around his neck in a more intimate hold, bringing the two of you much closer, swaying slowly. The tension in his body gave way with every step, and with a resigned sigh, he finally spoke, “You met my parents.”

“I did. They were lovely. Very curious about Enzo and I’s relationship.”

His hand clenched on your waist, and you tipped your head at him as his piercing gaze drilled into you. One more move…

“Oh, don’t be so mad, Dray. We’re only shagging, after all. You’ll find a new girl if I get swept away by someone else.”

His eyes narrowed, jaw clenching, and a fire burned in those silver eyes now, melting the ice away with rage. Checkmate.

“You win, alright? I’m not playing this stupid game any longer.” He took a deep breath, and another, fingers twitching on your back as jealousy bubbled under the surface. “For fucks sake, how many pieces of jewellery from other guys are you wearing? Who bought you those earrings, that necklace? I should be the only one buying you gifts. I should be the one spoiling you. You want the Malfoy family ring? I’ll go yank it off my mother’s engagement ring from her finger right now, just take all this off.”

He studied you for a second, confusion growing at the smirk that grew on your lips. Victory was yours, and you leaned in, pressing a delicate kiss to his cheek. Letting the hand from his neck smooth down his chest, his gaze stayed locked on the jewels around your neck, glaring angrily. “No.”

“No?”

“No. It’s pretty. I’m going to keep wearing it all, let it remind you what you have. Next time you piss me off, forget a date, or use the last of my shampoo, I’m going to put it all back on so you can remember how many guys would jump at the chance.” His nostrils flared, but he stayed silent, wisely knowing when to keep his mouth shut. “I don’t want your family ring, Malfoy. Not yet. I just want a proper title, and the respect that comes with it. I’m not your booty call, or your side piece. You don’t want to play games anymore? Then don’t.”

“You already won.” He whispers, his head dropping down to let his forehead rest on your own. “You know how much you mean to me.”

“Yes, I do. But I want the whole world to know it, too, Dray.”

He didn’t respond verbally. Instead, he twisted his head, enough to press his mouth to your own, silencing any more arguments between you both as he kissed you. His lips claimed yours, a tender and loving kiss, showing everyone just how much you meant to him. There was no mistaking the emotions within it, not as his arms wrapped around your body, holding you to him as the pretence of dancing was given up, your hand on the back of his head, fingers in his hair, meeting every push and pull.

When he pulled away, your smile took over, bashful now under his openly adoring gaze, and he stole several more pecks from your lips. A happy sound escaped you as he tugged you in, tucking his face into your neck, and swaying you both to the music. 

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

“You have, but I’d be open to hearing it again.” Your hand smoothed over his hair, and he chuckled against your skin, leaving a kiss on the crook of your neck before raising to meet your eye. 

“You are breathtaking, darling. I’m in awe. This colour is my favourite, you know.”

“Why do you think I wore it?”

His fingers trailed down your spine, eyes sparkling even more at that revelation. “How about we get out of here? We’ll make our goodbyes to my parents, and head out.”

“Our goodbyes?” You repeated as he took your hand, lacing your fingers together. 

“Yes. From their son and his girlfriend. I think you deserve a proper introduction, after all.”

Tugging you across the floor, he gave you no time to prepare, and certainly, none to disagree, as you smoothed your hair and attempted to control the blush he’d brought to your cheeks. Through the crowds he wove, until he was pulling to a stop just shy of his parents, and Enzo looked as though he could have cried with relief when Lucius’ intense focus was taken away from him. The boy quickly slipped away as both of Draco’s parents turned to face you. 

“Miss (Y/l/n), when we said we hoped to see you again soon, I didn’t realise you’d take it quite this literally.” He murmured, voice as low and calm as always, and your lips parted, a different kind of heat flooding your features. 

“Oh, behave now, Lucius,” Narcissa grinned, her gaze dropping to your clasped hands, before she reached up to her son’s face, pinching his cheek with a smile. “Draco, darling, I’ve hardly seen you all evening.”

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you Mother, but we’ll be leaving early.” She only gave him a knowing look, ignoring Lucius’ displeased huff, as if she wasn’t surprised at all. 

“‘We’?”

“My girlfriend and I.” He said, proud and strong, before tugging you forward a little more to stand in front of him. His hand left your own, circling your waist instead, and she offered him a smile at the news. 

“I see.” She smiled, patting her son’s cheek affectionately, before turning that knowing gaze on you. “Now Lorenzo’s evasiveness whenever I asked him about you makes sense.”

“You asked about me?” Your words were a rushed squeak, which only seemed to amuse Narcissa more. 

“Of course, dear. I wanted to know more about you. I’d ask you to sit and chat with me for a spell, but I believe my son might combust if I did.”

“Mother!” He gasped, and Lucius only tutted. 

“Draco.” His father growled softly, shaking his head, and the red on his son’s cheeks only grew.

“You both may go, for now. But I hope you’ll visit me soon, and we might talk?”

“You mean… just us?” Your words tapered off to a near whisper, and Lucius smirked to himself as Draco rolled his eyes. 

“Yes, dear. We’ll have tea.”

You could only nod, bidding your final farewells to them both in a state of awe, before Draco was hurrying you along. Tight hands gripping your waist, lips on your neck as he loved you through the crowds, swiping up your bag and giving you barely a moment to say goodbye to your friends before sweeping you away again. It was only due to the snow falling outside, you were sure, that he allowed you to stop long enough to get your coats. 

Helping you, he lifted the garment onto you from behind, kissing your cheek as he reached around your body to fasten it. His elegant coat was already on, and leather gloves were on his hands as he offered you one. Lacing your fingers through his own, he smiled, tugging you out into the freezing night, and ushering you around the side of the Manor, away from the stream of cars lined up for guests as they left. 

“Where are we going, Dray?” 

“To one of the gardens near the path.” He never turned back, leading you carefully around patches of ice and slippery snow as you moved, the light from the house fading. It was almost pitch black, before he mumbled a small spell, and the garden lights glowed to light, glittering on the fresh blanket of ice. 

Sitting on the grass was an old-fashioned sleigh, enchanted to keep dry, even in the snow, and two reindeer sat happily in the snow snuffling at the grass and scattered food. 

The landscape stretched out far before you both, trees and grass and walls all covered in snow like something from a Christmas card, and the sigh that left your lips clouded in the air before your face. 

“Oh, Draco…” Taking a few steps closer, snow-tipped over the tops of your heels as you stepped off the pathway onto the grass, chilling your feet for only a second, before Draco was following. Scooping you up into his arms, you kicked the ice from your feet with a giggle, your arms looping around his neck. “What’s all this?”

“This is your Christmas present. I didn’t realise that was the kind of ice you wanted instead.” He muttered, eyes flicking down to your neck, as he carried you carefully through the snow and towards the ornate sleigh. As you leaned in to kiss his cheek, he smiled shyly, avoiding your gaze as he became embarrassed, “I wanted to do something romantic for you. We can take the sleigh back to the town, get a cab, and take the jet anywhere you want to go. Pansy already packed a bag for you.”

He placed you down on the edge of the sleigh, letting you shuffle across onto the warmed leather. With another kiss to your lips, he scoffed at your smile. 

“Merry Christmas, my wicked little girlfriend.”

“I can’t believe you arranged all this.” You were practically bouncing in your seat, watching as Draco nervously tugged on the reins, prompting the lazy animals to stand back up, before settling into the sleigh himself. Like they knew just what to do, they took off in a slow trot, tugging the pair of you along through the snow. 

“Maybe if you’d have waited, instead of making me fight for my life tonight, you’d have been surprised.”

His arm was splayed along the back of the seat, and you snuggled in a little closer to him. Curling his arm around you, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, shaking his head and burying his nose in your hair. “If I didn’t make you fight for me, Dray, you’d probably have introduced me to your mother as your study partner. I gave you a little push, that’s all.”

“Is that so?” He muttered, guiding your face up so he could peck your lips. “Who do you think helped me arrange all of this for my ‘lovely lady friend’, hm? I’ve been writing to my mother about having an interest in someone for months now. You underestimate me.”

“You never gave me any other indication!” 

“Oh, please. You walk me like a damn dog, you knew how I felt.” His mouth closed over your own, stealing a kiss, and you couldn't help but smile into it. “I think tonight just proves it.”

The sleigh trotted on as Draco kissed you in the back, beyond thought and reason, your hands tucked into his coat for warmth as he kept you cuddled in close to his side. 

Minutes melted away, the two of you lost in your own world as you jostled and trotted through the fields, back toward the town. Whatever he had planned, it had been in motion for days, and the thought only made you fall a little more in love with him. Perhaps you had underestimated him, but none of it mattered now, not when he was kissing you like you were his only way to breathe, and you had him in your arms, properly, at last.

“So, Pansy knew about your little plan?”

“Yes. I told her days ago.” 

“Hm…” You loved her, and it was perhaps her knowledge of Draco’s actions that made this all the funnier. “So, she knew about your plan, and mine. And still, she made sure to introduce guys to me all night. She played us both just for her own amusement.”

As you thought of her, your fingers lifted to your neck, sitting on the delicate jewellery there, and Draco huffed. Looping his finger underneath it, he tugged lightly. “Can you take this off now, please?”

“Why would I do that?” His pout deepened, glaring at the offending item, and you gave in with an airy laugh. “Pansy, Daph and Tori picked it out personally.”

“What?” His head snapped up, pout gone as his jaw dropped, and he was not laughing like you were. “You let me believe another guy decked you out in diamonds all night! What about the matching earrings?”

“Blaise.”

“The bracelet?”

“Theo and the Notts.” 

At that mention, his eyes narrowed again, searching for your clutch and finding it resting in your lap. “But Theo’s cousin Mario gave you a separate gift.”

“Dario.” You corrected, and he mimicked it childishly, scoffing afterwards. “Well, that part was real. He truly was flirting, and I have no idea what it is, I haven’t opened it yet.”

“Give it to me.” He reached for your bag, a second too slow as you swiped it away from him with a gasp. He didn’t give up, still trying to snatch it as he leaned over you, pressing you back into the seat through fits of laughter, the two of you fighting over the bag until it was pressed to your chest, your eyes wide as you stared up at him, shaking your head. “Give it to me! I’m chucking it, hand it over!”

“No, it’s mine!” He slumped back into his seat, panting for breath and smoothing his hair back down. He was pointedly staring away in the opposite direction, and when you leaned in closer with a chuckle, he leaned away. Grabbing his shoulder, you planted yourself firmly in his lap, kissing the underside of his jaw. “I’m keeping it, but your present is better, I just know it. Whatever it is, could never beat this.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, Dray.” 

He gave in, wrapping his arms around your waist, tugging you in closer to his body and pressing a happy kiss to your cheek. “Fine, but I’m buying you a new necklace when we get off the damn plane. I don’t care who bought that one.”

The James

He escaped his Bonds

written in the stars.

author's note: boyfriend theo is the best theo. play this in the background to hurt your own feelings.

Theodore Nott has always had an affinity for the stars. 

When he was younger, Theo's mother used to take him to the rooftop of Nott Manor and point out the constellations to him. The stars told stories, his mum had said. Theo listened with rapt attention as she recounted the tales of Aquila, Heracles, and Orion as they glittered against the backdrop of the English countryside.

The two of them would make an entire evening out of it. Laying on his back atop a nest of blanket and pillows, little Theo watched as the stars climbed higher and higher, filling the horizon with hope and light. Stargazing had been their special secret. The one thing that wasn’t tainted by his abusive father. Theo guarded the memory of those nights in his heart like a priceless treasure.

After his mother’s passing, Theo continued their tradition of stargazing. Even if she was no longer alive, all he had to do was look up at the sky to feel her with him. For that reason, the stars were special to him and he’d never shared its meaning with anyone. 

Until tonight. 

“Watch your step, cara mia.” Theo said as he guided you by the small of your back. 

The dark cloth covering your eyes prohibited you from seeing, but you trusted your boyfriend to keep you from falling. Though you weren’t a fan of surprises, Theo was impossible to resist. All he had to do was flash those pretty watercolor eyes at you and you were an absolute goner. 

For you, Theo had always been the exception. 

He guided you up a staircase, keeping a firm grip on your waist as the two of you ascended. Wherever you were going, it was pretty high up. You smiled as Theo took hold of your waist, knowing that you weren't the biggest fan of heights. Sometimes it felt like he knew you better than you knew yourself. When you reached the top, Theo unfastened his tie from behind your head. 

“You can open your eyes now, sweetheart.” 

You blinked, letting your eyes adjust to the dark. The wind whistled through the stone arches of the Astronomy Tower, framing the starkissed night with its marble pillars. The soft glow of the moon illuminated the nest of blankets and pillows arranged in the middle of the wooden floor. 

“Did you do all of this for me, babe?” 

Theo smiled. “I thought you might like to go stargazing with me,” he said, his voice soft. “Do you like it, my love?” 

“I love it, Teddy.” You beamed, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his nose. “But not nearly as much as I love you.” 

Theo grinned before pulling you in for a proper kiss. His lips were soft against yours and he tasted like peppermint. Butterflies erupted in your stomach as your knees buckled slightly. Theo never failed to make you feel like a lovestruck school girl. It never stopped feeling like this despite how many times you kissed this boy.

As if reading your thoughts, Theo smiled against your lips. “Come on, Y/N. I want to show you my favorite constellations.” 

The two of you laid down beneath the stars, making yourself comfortable amidst the blankets and pillows. Wordlessly, Theo pulled you into his arms and you nestled into the crook of his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of sea salt spray and sun kissed skin. 

“Tell me the story of the stars, Teddy.” 

He smiled, brushing your hair back. “That one right there is Ursa Major. Otherwise known as the Big Dipper, but if you look at the entire constellation, it actually forms a bear.” 

“I remember learning about that when I was little,” you said, gazing up at the sky. “Didn’t it have something to do with Zeus?”

Theo nodded. “In Greek mythology, the Olympian God Zeus fell in love with Callisto and got her pregnant. After she gave birth to the child, Hera was so mad she turned Callisto into a bear.” 

“That hardly seems fair,” you responded with a frown. 

“Zeus was a bit of a wanker,” Theo said in agreement. “Hera was even worse. She cursed Callisto to wander the forest for years in bear form until she was hunted by her own son Arcas. Just as he raised his spear to strike her down, Zeus stepped in and sent them up to the heavens. Callisto as Ursa Major and Arcas as Bootes.” 

“The Greek gods were truly a piece of work,” you replied. “But at least we got those constellations out of them."

You squinted, pointing at the cluster of stars hovering in the east. “What’s that one?” 

“That’s the constellation of Leo,” explained Theo. “Named after the Nemean lion that Heracles defeated during the first of his twelve labours.” 

“Didn’t he make a cloak out of the lion’s pelt?” 

“Smart girl,” Theo said proudly. “The cloak made Heracles invincible and more fearsome than he already was. The Nemean lion’s heart is made up of the star Regulus, which is associated with the arrival of spring.” 

“The Little King. I read that it burns hotter than the sun.” 

Theo couldn’t help but smile. Before he met you, he never thought he’d find someone to share such a special and intimate thing with. He was worried that no one else would understand his love for the stars, but as he watched you peer curiously up at the sky, your nose scrunched in careful concentration, Theo felt all of his doubts fade away. 

“Regulus is unique because it can be seen in both the Northern and Southern hemispheres.” 

The blue star glittered brightly above your heads, as if it was showing off for the occasion. “It’s beautiful,” you breathed. 

Theo stared at you, at the childlike wonder shimmering in your eyes, and he felt like the breath had been knocked out of his lungs. The gravity of what he felt for you hit him all at once. 

“Yeah,” Theo said softly, still looking at you. “Beautiful.” 

You grinned, intertwining your fingers and kissing his knuckles. “How do you know so much about the stars, Teddy?” 

“My mum taught me.” Theo answered, drawing circles on your hip. “When I was little, she used to take me to the rooftop of the manor and tell me the story behind each star. She was fascinated by them. Before she met my father, she wanted to teach astronomy at the Stati Magia.”

“The Italian School of Witchcraft?” 

Theo nodded. “My mother attended the Stati Magia, just like her mother and her mother before her. A tradition that I unintentionally broke, as nonna Lucia loves to remind me. Sometimes I think the old bat wishes that I was born a strega instead.” 

You giggled. “You would’ve been a very pretty witch.” Theo chuckled as you propped your head up in one hand. “Did your mum end up becoming a professor?”

“No,” Theo said sadly. “After I was born, my father said that her place was at the manor. He refused to move to Florence, even though he knew it was my mother’s dream.” 

You stroked his hair, nodding emphatically. Theo rarely talked about his mother. You knew that her passing was a painful subject for him, so you never pushed him to talk about it unless he wanted to.

“That’s awful. I’m so sorry, my love,” you said. “But at least she was able to pass down her love of the stars to you. In a way, she lived her dream by teaching you.” 

A soft smile tugged at your boyfriend’s lips. “I suppose she did.” 

You laid back down, but this time you cradled Theo against you. He rested his head against your chest, listening to the calming sound of your heartbeat. Talking about his mother will always be hard, but you helped ease the pain. 

“What about those stars?” You asked, pointing to the north. “What did your mother tell you about them?” 

“Perseus and Andromeda,” Theo answered. “Those are actually her favorites.”

“The chained maiden.” 

Theo stirred, inclining his gaze to the horizon. “Andromeda was the Princess of Aethiopia, the daughter of King Cepheus and Queen Cassiopeia. She was said to be very beautiful. Her mother bragged that Andromeda was better looking than the Nereids, which angered Poseidon. As punishment, the Sea God sent the creature Cetus to ravage that coast of their kingdom.” 

You nodded, recalling the story. “King Cepheus chained her to a rock and offered her as a sacrifice to appease the sea monster.” 

“Luckily for Andromeda, the hero Perseus found her before Cetus could attack again. Perseus fell in love with Andromeda and defeated the monster so he could free the princess. They ended up marrying and became king and queen of Mycenae. When they died, the goddess Athena placed them side by side in the heavens so that they would never be parted, not even by death.” 

“A love written in the stars,” you said with awe and wonder. “I can see why it’s your mother’s favorite.”

“When I was a boy, she told me that she hoped I’d experience a love like theirs, minus the sea monster of course.” You chuckled. Theo knit his brows together like he did when he was deep in thought. When he spoke again, his voice was barely audible. “It’s sad to think that she never found her Perseus.” 

You brushed his hair back, running your fingers through his curls gently. “She might not have found her Perseus, but she did have her Theo.”

Theo turned over and looked at you. The intensity in his gaze made you shiver. He was so ingrained in your heart that it felt inaccurate to continue calling it yours.

“After she died, I never thought I’d share her stories with anyone again, but I’m glad I shared them with you.” 

“Thank you for trusting me, Theo.” You said as you placed a kiss on his temple. “It means the world to me that you not only shared your mother’s stories, but her memory as well. I would’ve loved to meet her.”

The tender smile on Theo’s face was heartbreaking. Then softly, he whispered. “She would’ve loved you, Y/N.”

Your heart cracked open, his words spilling like sunlight over every crevice, warming you from the inside out.

Tears formed at the corners of your eyes, but you forced yourself to give Theo a watery smile. “Because I’m a nerd who memorized obscure mythological facts?”

Your boyfriend smiled. “No,” he said gently, caressing your cheek. “Because you made her wish come true. You are my love written in the stars, cara mia.” 

The moonlight kissed Theo’s tan skin, the silver beams caressing his face like a lover as if the moon and the stars craved to commit his beauty to memory as badly as you did. Gods, he was breathtaking. 

This was the Teddy you knew and loved. Your Teddy.

Those watercolor eyes shimmered with emotion. “Sometimes I think the gods made you just for me, like our souls are linked in a way that neither logic nor magic can explain. Whatever it is, I think I’ve loved you since before the heavens and the earth existed and I’m fairly certain that I’d still love you even after the last star falls out of the sky.”

“You’re the love of my life, Theodore Nott.” Tears streamed down your cheeks as this boy—this beautiful boy ensnared your mind, body, and soul. “I’d find you in any universe and in any galaxy. Maybe someday we’ll be immortalized in the stars too.” 

Theo held your face in his hands. His expression was open and vulnerable, like he wasn’t afraid to lay himself bare before you. As if it was the most natural thing in the world. 

“We’re two halves of a whole,” Theo said. “I loved you yesterday. I love you today and I’ll love you tomorrow. You’re it for me, Y/N. You and no one else.” 

“You and no one else, Teddy.” 

Under the constellations of the star crossed lovers, Theo kissed you so gently that it made your heart ache. As Andromeda and Perseus kept watch over the horizon, Theodore Nott knew one thing for certain.

Someday the stars would tell your story too.

characters i write for:

⫷james potter⫸

⫷sirius black⫸

⫷remus lupin⫸

⫷regulus black⫸

⫷poly!wolfstar⫸

⫷poly!marauders⫸

𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘓𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘔𝘦

𝖲𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒: 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖩𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝖯𝗈𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗇𝗈 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗎𝗇𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗇𝖽…𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗈 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍. 𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗁𝖺𝗄𝗂, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖩𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌, 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇’𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍. 𝖶𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍, 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋? 𝖮𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖩𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽?

𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗁𝖺𝗄𝗂!𝖺𝗎 | 𝗃𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗑 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 | 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗎𝗌 𝗅𝗎𝗉𝗂𝗇 𝗑 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 | 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍 | 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿

𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖮𝗇𝖾

𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖳𝗐𝗈

𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖳𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾

𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖥𝗈𝗎𝗋

𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖥𝗂𝗏𝖾

𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖲𝗂𝗑

𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖲𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇

𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖤𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍

𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖭𝗂𝗇𝖾

𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖳𝖾𝗇

𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖤𝗅𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇

𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖳𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗏𝖾

𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖾𝗇 -𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘥𝘬 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯! 𝘱𝘭𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘢𝘴𝘬

𝖯𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 | 𝖸𝖫𝖬!𝖱𝖾𝗆𝗎𝗌 𝖽𝗋𝖺𝗐𝗇 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗍𝗎𝗅𝗂𝗉𝖽𝗋𝖺𝗐𝗓𝗓 YLM!Remus again

𝘿𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙧: 𝙞𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙧𝙪𝙨𝙝 𝙢𝙚, 𝙖𝙨𝙠 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 𝙪𝙥𝙙𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙞𝙨, 𝙤𝙧 𝙖𝙨𝙠 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙜𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚, 𝙄 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙘𝙠 𝙮𝙤𝙪

Wine & Dine (carmen "carmy" berzatto x fem!reader)

18+ account - minors do not interact

carmen "carmy" berzatto x fem!reader

Word Count: 6430ish+

Rating: E

Summary: You own a wine shop across the street from The Bear, and you have struck a deal with Carmen Berzatto that allows people to purchase wine from your shop and enjoy it at The Bear. Over time, your unexpected partnership with the quiet restaurant owner & head chef grows beyond just sharing wine and food.

Warning: slow burn (this happens over months in my mind), language, mutual pining (idiots in love crushing on one another), alcohol, mentions of Mikey’s death, allusions to slight family drama on the readers end, brief jealousy (Carmy is a jealous boi), fluff, flirting & sexual tension, competence kink? (Carmy builds something and reader feels things), kissing, sexual touching 18+, praise, dirty talk (Carmy and his filthy mouth), implied p in v sex

A/N: This is my first-time writing a Carmen “Carmy” Berzatto fic and writing for the Bear Universe. I can’t tell if this will just be a one-time thing, but with Season 3 coming out so soon, the brain-rot is real. This show is immaculate, and Carmen is such a complex character. I originally was going to use this idea and make it a Joel Miller AU fic (my obsession for that fictional man is concerning), but I decided to take a chance at writing for another fandom. I know nothing about the fine dining world / what food pairs well with wine so let’s pretend in this story that what I’m saying makes sense. I want to thank the following people that helped me with understanding tags in the Bear Universe: @nolita-fairytale, @violentdelightsandviolentends, @sunflowersteves and especially @nicksolemnlyswears / @mysingularitybts who convinced me to post this story.

xx

Chicago, Illinois The BEEF is CLOSED. Thank you for your patronage. THE BEAR is COMING.

The first time you met Carmen Berzatto, he was about to have his soft opening of the Bear for Friends and Family night. However, you had watched him and his crew from across the street for months getting the restaurant ready. You recall when a sign for The Beef, the beloved Italian beef sandwich shop had announced its closing, it had genuinely shocked you and a lot of people in the neighborhood.

He walked into your shop nervously and was scanning a bunch of different bottles, focused on the whites.

“How can I assist you sir?” you asked, and up close, you saw that he had piercing blue eyes. Eyes that you could lose yourself in.

“Um, I’m openin’ up the restaurant cross’ the street in a couple of days and uh, I-I’m tryin’ to find a wine that compliments one of our dishes. Right now… somethin’ is just not right,” he quickly rushed out.

“What’s the dish?”

“Seared scallops with an herby fish sauce vinaigrette, the Chardonnay I’m usin’ is just… it’s not hittin’ at all,” he let out a frustrated sigh and gripped his hair tightly in frustration.

“A Chardonnay won’t work, especially if your scallops are seared,” you suggested, starting to walk to locate the bottle that you thought would work better. “Chardonnay is often a go-to for scallops, but it can overpower the delicate flavors. What type of Chardonnay are you using?”

“A 2020 Racines Bentrock Vineyard Chardonnay,” he replied, looking at you with those beautiful eyes.  

“That’s an amazing bottle. But it’s a Chardonnay that is intensely buttery, which is probably what is causing the clash,” You picked up a mineral-driven Sancerre from the Loire Valley of France and handed the bottle to him. “Try this, it’s dry, bright, and acidic. Its minerality and citrus notes will complement the brininess of the scallops without overwhelming them,”

“I didn’t even think about usin’ somethin’ made from Sauvignon Blanc grapes. You don’t think the acidity would cut through the richness of the dish?”

“No, I think it will enhance the flavor, and it will complement the freshness of the scallops and the vinaigrette perfectly. I mean in fairness, I haven’t tried your dish,” you said with a shrug. “So, I guess I’m sort of giving you advice blindly, but I have a good hunch,” you continued with a smile. “So, take the bottle and try it out, and then let me know if it pairs well or if I was a complete idiot with my suggestion,”

You could see him pause for a moment looking down at the bottle; his brow furrowed in contemplation as he considered your recommendation. When he looked back up at you, you realized how distracting his face was and that he was devastatingly handsome. Your eyes were flickering between his eyes and his mouth as you two fell silent. You suddenly felt a huge desire to run your fingers through his luscious locks.

“I trust you…somethin’ tells me y’a know what you’re saying,” he said, sounding hopeful, but a little unsure. “How much do I owe you?”

“It’s on the house,” you informed him.

“Wait what?” he asked with an adorable frown of confusion.

“Consider it a friendly neighborhood present… opening a restaurant isn’t easy,” you assured him.

“Thank you,” he breathed your name looking at your chest, and confusion crossed your face wondering how this handsome stranger knew your name since you had never given it to him during this entire exchange. Then, his finger pointed down at your chest, where your name tag was pinned neatly in place. Realization dawned on you as you felt your cheeks heat, realizing he had been reading your name tag.

He cleared his throat and looked over at you a little sheepishly. “Nice to meet you, um, I’m – uh, my name’s Carmen,”

“Carmen”, you repeated, enjoying the way his name rolled off your tongue.

“Well, um, I have to go… uh, but see you around,” he stammered out and then started walking toward the front door and stepped out. As he crossed the street, he turned around to look at you before entering his restaurant and lifted his hand in a wave that you returned shyly.

“See you around,” you whispered to yourself.

The next day when you opened up the wine shop, you found a note that had been slipped under the door and bent down to pick it up.

You’re a genius.

– Carmen

xx

Through your conversations, you began to develop a mutual respect and admiration for each other's expertise. The Bear had a successful opening and Carmen and his team started bringing you dishes to taste. In the beginning, he would mostly come in with Sydney and then they started bringing Tina and Ebra as well to get their opinions on the wine pairings as well. You also worked with Marcus sometimes to provide wine recommendations for his mouth-watering desserts. Sometimes, even Ritchie would stop by to shoot the shit and pretend he understood what you were saying.

You found yourself eager to recommend wines that you thought would complement The Bear’s dishes, and Carmen and the team started incorporating your suggestions into the menu. Then one day you suggested the idea of allowing customers to purchase wine from your shop and enjoy it at The Bear, letting Carmen know that it would draw more people to both businesses. Customers who may not have visited your shop otherwise now would have a reason to come in, and vice versa for The Bear.

Over the next few weeks, as word spread about the successful wine partnership between your wine shop and The Bear, more and more customers began to visit both establishments. The collaboration proved to be a win-win for both businesses, as customers enjoyed the unique experience of sampling exceptional wines while dining on The Bear’s exquisite dishes.

You noticed a change in Carmen as you spent more alone time with him. He started coming to your shop without the rest of the team bringing you dishes to try, and you felt that he began to open up and show more of his personality. He was quiet, observant, and very focused. There were moments when he struggled to communicate his feelings and emotions, often choosing to stay silent. But as you got to know him better, you realized that he was actually quite thoughtful and deep. He had a unique perspective on things and was eager to learn and grow. Although he may not have been the most outgoing person, his quiet demeanor hid a kind heart and a passionate mind.

You found yourself enjoying conversations with him, as he had a way of making you think and see things in a different light. He had a knack for analyzing situations and offering insightful solutions, showing a level of maturity beyond his years.

“So, I googled you,” you said one day when he brought you over a Spicy Rigatoni Vodka pasta dish he was considering implementing for the menu. Carmen didn’t believe in static menus, he preferred a series of menus that rotated after a specific period with rotating entrees, seasonal dishes, and regional specialties.

"I had no idea you were such a big deal," you said, your eyes wide with admiration. He was so fucking amazing.

"Oh, um, it's nothin’, really," he mumbled, unable to meet your gaze. He blushed as you marveled at his impressive CV, detailing his rise to fame as a culinary prodigy. You could tell he was modest about his achievements, not one to boast about his success.

“So, I guess I have to ask. Why did you come back to Chicago?”

He shuffled his feet, and you could tell he felt slightly uncomfortable with the question. "My brother…” he paused, “Mikey… That was his name. He died and left me the restaurant in his will," he confessed, his voice slightly shaky.

You looked at him with concern, reaching out to touch his hand. "I'm so sorry, Carmy. That must have been really hard for you." You heard his friends and family calling him that, so you decided to try to nickname out since he was sharing something so personal, and you wanted to soothe him somehow. He looked into your eyes with gratitude and vulnerability. Without saying a word, he laced his fingers with yours, intertwining them in a gentle, reassuring grip.

Carmen shrugged, looking down at the table. "Yeah, it’s been tough. I dunno. Sometimes, I just feel so lost, y’a know?" His grip tightened slightly, as if seeking solace in the connection between you both, a silent reassurance that you were there for him in that moment of vulnerability.

You nodded sympathetically, and fell silent, unsure of what to say. You realized that Carmen probably preferred it that way. He probably just wanted to be heard, understood, and supported without the need for empty expressions of sympathy.

As you had expected, he quickly shifted the conversation back to you tasting the food and dropped your hand, and you felt yourself missing his touch immediately. He watched you take a couple of bites of the pasta that he had brought over for you. “So, what do y’a think?” he asked shyly.

You decided to take a few more final bites before replying. It tasted like a symphony of flavors – the heat from the red pepper flakes woke up your senses, while the spicy tomato and creamy vodka sauce soothed and balanced out the spice and added richness to the pasta.

Each bite was a delightful experience that left you wanting more. “Carmy… it’s a gift. What you do… what you have is a gift,” you whispered.

“You really think so?” he asked timidly, staring at you with those crazy blue eyes.

“No,” you said firmly, and you saw his anxiety spike. “I know so,”

His face softened, and you gave him a small smile.

“You’ll need a full-bodied Italian red for this dish, probably a Chianti. A Barolo could work, but I think the Chianti I’m thinking of will be an excellent choice. Let me grab it,” you quickly left the counter to find the Machiavelli Vigna di Fontalle and poured two glasses of wine for you and Carmen.

You both took more bites of the Spicy Rigatoni and brought the glass of wine to your lips, taking a small sip and letting the rich flavors wash over the palate. You closed your eyes and took another sip, savoring the complexity of the wine, letting it linger on your taste buds before swallowing. The wine had a bold and complex flavor profile with hints of dark fruits, spices, and earthy notes, making it a great complement to the richness of the pasta. The wine's smooth tannins and balanced acidity helped cut through the sauce's creaminess.

When you opened your eyes, you found that Carmen was gazing into your eyes with a look of pure intensity. It was a look you had never seen him give you before. His gaze seemed to linger, as if he was trying to convey something to you without saying a word.

You liked Carmen. You felt like it was obvious. Could it be possible that he had feelings for you too? Was it all in your head, or was there something more between you that had been simmering beneath the surface all along? He was so hard to read.

“You know… you have a gift too,” he said, pushing his empty plate away. “Your ability to choose the perfect wine to complement any dish is truly… fuckin’ remarkable,”

You rolled your eyes. “Carmy, that’s silly. I’m not making the wine; I’m just simply drinking it, and then making some suggestions,”

His eyes squinted in disapproval. “You know opening night… do y’a know what dish received the most compliments?

You shook your head.

“It was the scallops, everyone who did the suggested wine pairing with that dish said that the wine enhanced the overall dining experience,” he said softly, his lips slowly curving into a small smile.

You felt a warm glow of pride and satisfaction knowing that your passion and knowledge was being appreciated by him, but it was hard for you to accept it. Your father had been so disappointed when you dropped out of Columbia Law School to run away to Europe and drink wine for a living. You were the youngest of 4 children, and all of your siblings were lawyers, including your hard-to-please father. In a way, you were sort of the odd one out in your family.  “Carmy… It’s really not all that impressive,”

“You have a gift too,” he repeated, his eyes staring into yours, as his comment lingered in the air between you two.

xx

One night, you decided that it was time for you to enjoy The Bear's fine dining experience yourself. Ironically, you had never eaten there. Carmy had never asked you or formally invited you to the restaurant since he would bring his menu items over to the shop for you to taste so that you could provide recommended wine pairings. It was restaurant week in Chicago and The Bear was participating in the special 5-course prix fixe celebration. Therefore, you decided to bring your cousin who was visiting his family from New York who was a total foodie and enjoy your Friday night with him.

As you walked into the restaurant, you were immediately greeted by Sugar at the hostess stand who you had met a few times. She complimented you on your dress and you introduced her to your cousin, and it turned out that they knew each other since they attended rival high schools, and they reminisced on some senior week prank gone wrong. They enjoyed a few playful jabs with one another before she escorted you to the table, where you were impressed by the cozy and elegant atmosphere of the restaurant.

You took in the beautifully set tables, the dim lighting, and the soft music playing in the background. Carmen and the team had done such a terrific job with the place, the rave reviews made so much sense. Ritchie noticed you and walked over to say hello, pulled out your chair, and handed you and your cousin the prix-fixe menu. You narrowed your eyes as you observed Ritchie’s unfriendly gaze toward your cousin since it was certainly out of character for him.

Once Ritchie finished his spiel about restaurant week, you both placed drink orders and then he walked away. You could have sworn you heard him mutter ‘fuckin’ jagoff’ under his breath, but maybe you had just been imagining it.

“I talked to your Dad, and he said your parents are going to the south of France this summer,” your cousin said as he placed the white napkin cloth in his lap.

“How interesting, I lived in Bordeaux for 3 years, and he never visited me once,” you muttered bitterly. Your mother and all your siblings had visited you while you lived out there, even some of your extended family, but your father always had an excuse as to why he couldn’t. ‘Work is so crazy baby girl,’ But deep down, you knew it was because he was disappointed.

“How are things with you two?”

“Well, I’m not married to a Harvard Business School graduate who works at a hedge fund, and I don’t have any babies so it could be better,” you responded sarcastically. “But if I’m honest, since I moved back home to Chicago last year and opened up the shop, much better. We had a big Kumbaya moment, he apologized, admitted he went to therapy, and –

“He went to therapy?” Your cousin interrupted.

“Let’s get real, my mother forced him to go, and he probably hated every second of it,” you chuckled, “But yes, he did… apparently,”

“Well let’s fucking cheers to that,” he said and you two grabbed your cocktails that had just been dropped off by Fak.

The clink of your cocktail glasses echoed softly across the room as you smiled at each other.

“I can’t believe you know Carmen Berzatto. Did you know that the last place he worked at in New York credited him for retaining the restaurant's three stars?” your cousin exclaimed.

You didn’t know that. But it didn’t surprise you. Everything Carmen did was nothing short of spectacular.

“What’s he like?” your cousin asked, clearly intrigued.

“He’s kind of an anxious person, so he can come across as awkward, but he’s really incredible,” you answered honestly. “He’s obviously so passionate about food, and he’s so supportive and encouraging of his crew. It’s really sweet,” You ended up confessing to your cousin about your crush on Carmen over the third course, and he grinned at you while you shared your secret like a little schoolgirl during dinner.

“You don’t think he likes you too?” He asked you when you guys got to the final course, before the dessert. It was foie gras stuffed free-range quail.

You sighed deeply. “I feel like this restaurant and his family, which I’m sensing is totally chaotic are just about the only things he has time for in his life, so no, I think he just sees me as a friend,”

You took a small bite of the dish, savoring the explosion of flavors in your mouth. The rich, buttery foie gras complemented the juicy, tender quail perfectly, creating a melt-in-your-mouth sensation. You closed your eyes in pure bliss, and as you continued to eat, you couldn’t help but marvel at the complexity of flavors and textures in each bite. The dish was so delicious, so perfectly balanced, it had to be one of the best things you had ever eaten.

“What the fuck man, this is so fucking good,” a low groan escaped your cousin's lips.

You couldn’t help but let out a soft moan of pleasure. “Oh my god, I know,”

“The best thing I can make is… nothing,” he said with a chuckle. You immediately thought back to a time when he had almost burnt down his house making toaster strudel when you two were younger. You laughed so hard that you didn’t hear that someone had approached the table.

You heard a familiar voice say your name and you looked up and saw that it was Carmen.

The blue in his eyes was as gorgeous as ever, so raw, and intense, and you felt your heart race when you watched his mouth part, tongue peeking out to trace his bottom lip.

“I thought that was you,” Carmen cracked a tiny smile, his gaze slid from your face down to your legs, and you felt every inch of it. You were wearing a little black dress, nothing special, but it was figure-hugging, with a plunging neckline and short hemline that showcased your legs.

You offered a tiny wave when his pretty blue eyes met yours. "Chef, this is absolutely incredible," you gushed pointing at your plate, but couldn’t help but notice that Carmen’s lips were narrowed, and his jaw was tense.

“Thank you,” he replied, his lips formed around the words, but his teeth stayed locked.

“Dude, the food has been amazing tonight. We’re huge fans,” your cousin said.

“Oh really?” Carmen responded, his eyes focused only on you and not acknowledging your cousin who was sitting across from you. He then finally turned to him. “Nice to hear that dude,” His voice had an edge to it, and you hadn’t heard him use it before.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Chef, she’s been telling me about this place for months so I’m glad we’re finally checking it out,” your cousin continued, and then winked at you and squeezed your hand across the table.

Carmen blinked, as blankness rolled over his features, and he looked at your cousin with a forced smile.  

You laughed nervously. “Carmy, this is my older cousin, we grew up together. He’s in town for his mom’s birthday. My aunt’s birthday, my mom’s sister, it’s her 60th on Sunday,” you felt silly emphasizing that you two were related but in Carmen’s life, the term ‘Cousin’ was sometimes used for friends.

It was like a flip had switched, and suddenly Carmen reached for your cousin's hand thanking him for coming in tonight, asking him if he was enjoying the experience, and telling him how lucky he was to have you across the street helping The Bear with the wine pairings over the last few months. You were extremely confused but gave Carmen a reassuring smile since you finally felt him begin to relax again. The kitchen was probably crazy tonight, so you could only imagine how he was feeling.

Carmen bit his lip and ran his fingers through his hair. He looked nervous and vulnerable all of a sudden as well. “By the way, don’t worry about the bill tonight. When y’a guys are done for the night, just let Cousin know,”

“Carmy that’s not necess-,” you started to say.

“I said, the bill will be covered. Compliments from the chef,” his tone was final, and you felt insane for feeling turned on by it. His eyebrows lifted and he gave you this look that clearly meant he wasn’t kidding. So, you decided not to push it.

“I’m sorry, I have to go. But, um, if y’a two want to stay past closin’, the team and I are doin’ surprise birthday shots for Sydney,” Carmen informed you both.

You giggled knowing that Sydney was going to hate all the attention on her. “She’s going to kill you, but yeah, that sounds fun,”

“Trust me it wasn’t my idea,” he muttered, as he bent down to kiss your cheek and quickly whispered in your ear, “Thanks for comin’, you look um, really… really nice,”

You were shocked at the act and struggled to respond, feeling tongue-tied and flustered by his words. But once you saw him walk back into the kitchen, you couldn't help but smile at his words, the corners of your lips turning up involuntarily as you tried to hide your face from your cousin,

“Well, I can tell you that he likes you,” he smirked.

“What? How can you tell?”

“Because until you told him who I was, it looked like he was going to punch me in the face and kick me out of this restaurant,” he said while grinning wildly.

xx

After you had visited the restaurant, you started going there a lot more to taste the menu items in the kitchen. You also noticed a shift in your dynamic with Carmen. You felt as though his touch became more frequent… maybe even intimate. You would feel a gentle hand on your lower back as he guided you through the chaotic kitchen. His hand would brush against your arms as he reached for ingredients or utensils. Sometimes, when you talked, he would reach out to brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering for a moment before he would pull away. Most recently, you had almost tripped in the kitchen, and he had moved his hands to rest on your shoulders to make sure you were okay, and his fingers caressed your collarbone. You had shivered at his touch, feeling a surge of warmth and longing spread through your body.

The Bear staff was sort of this crazy family, but they made it work somehow. You mostly worked alone in the wine shop and had to depend on yourself for a lot of things. You ran a lean business with only two other employees who were part-time staff. You had an attorney and accountant to help you with beverage alcohol law and accounting, but it wasn’t as though you saw them all the time. In a way, your professional life had always felt a little lonely and The Bear had somehow become a part of your day-to-day, and your feelings for Carmen only grew more and more.

You had started to host weekly wine tastings on Thursdays and had just wrapped up cleaning up the mess from a 10-person party where one of the guys was extremely drunk and kept spilling his wine everywhere when Carmen and Ritchie walked in unexpectedly with a giant delivery box.

“Hey, noticed your name on this box, it was sittin’ in front of the shop next door,” Carmen stated as he dumped it on the counter.

You looked at the box and scowled. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

You had been eagerly awaiting the delivery of a new shipment of wine and had been left without any inventory of this particular Portuguese wine to sell to patrons the day before or the day before that. You were beyond frustrated. This was the third time the shop next door didn’t let you know that a delivery had been mistakenly delivered to them. Now you felt like an asshole, because you had totally bitched out the wine distributor yesterday demanding to know where your delivery was and why you had been left high and dry without any Pico Wine to sell. It was a super unique wine, probably one of the most unique in the world and your rich clientele loved having bottles in their homes. You probably looked batshit crazy explaining this to Carmen and Ritchie.

“Do y’a want me to beat the shit out of em’?” Your eyes grew wide, and your mouth dropped in shock as Ritchie started laughing. “I’m kidding, but do y’a want me to talk to em’ so that they fuckin’ understand?” Ritchie asked as his phone rang. He pulled his phone out of his back pocket, looked down, and told you he had to step out since Tiffany was calling him.

You let out a long sigh, and Carmen instantly pulled you in his arms, your face planted firmly against his chest. “You should come to Family tonight, take your mind off this,” he murmured against your skin, rubbing soothing circles on your back.

You had never been invited to Family dinner before, it was staff only. “Oh, I know how stressed you guys can get before the dinner rush, I really don’t want to be a bother,”

He scoffed and brushed your hair back once you looked up at him. “You wouldn’t be a bother, please don’t say that,” The look in his eyes was so genuine. “I’m so sorry about your shipment, I know how shitty that can feel,” he said releasing his hold on you and stepping back slightly.

You didn’t want to impose, and you didn’t want Carmen to feel like he had to invite you because you were having a bad day.

“It’s fine, I just need to drink some wine or something to calm down. I guess that’s the perk of this job,” you shrugged.

He peeked at you from beneath his lashes, “Tina cooked Poulet Mafé,”

“Carmy,” you moaned, while you saw him smile at your reaction. You had tasted Tina’s Poulet Mafé in the past. It was 100% the ultimate comfort food with thick peanut sauce with chicken, root vegetables, and cabbage served over rice. It was so fucking good.

“Okay, fine, I’ll come,” you conceded, rolling your eyes, looking away, and pretending you were bothered by it.

You felt a finger brush beneath your chin, as he raised your face to look at him, “Good girl,”

You swallowed a heavy breath and felt your panties get impossibly wet.

xx

“How did I not know that you live above the wine shop?” Carmen asked you one day when he was helping you build your new bar cart. At your last party, one of your friends accidentally crashed into it and broke it, so you ordered a new one on Amazon.

“I guess it never came up,” you replied. It was his first time at your apartment and for some reason, you felt a little nervous. It was probably because as he built the new bar cart, his muscles flexed with each movement as he expertly handled the tools. The veins in his arms bulged as he reached for different tools, his hands skillfully maneuvering as he put the cart together piece by piece. You couldn't help but be mesmerized by the intricate designs of his tattoos. He was so… sexy.

As he worked diligently, you found yourself drawn to his competence, "Do you need any help with that?" you asked softly, biting your lip.

He smiled at you. "Nah, I've got it covered, but could y’a hand me that wrench over there?" he called out, gesturing towards the toolbox, and breaking you out of your trance.

You grabbed the wrench and handed it to him, admiring the way his biceps tensed as he tightened the bolt.

As he put the finishing touches on the bar cart, you couldn't help but feel grateful for having Carmen in your life. As he stood back to admire his handiwork, you couldn't resist planting a kiss on his cheek.

You watched him blush as you thanked him and felt your heart flutter at the sight.

“I owe you a fucking cocktail, take a seat on the couch, and make yourself comfortable,” you told him, as you walked into the kitchen. You decided to make some Aviations. They were simple enough to make with gin, maraschino liqueur, crème de violette, and lemon juice. You effortlessly measured out the ingredients and shook the cocktail shaker and then poured the mixed and chilled cocktails into crystal glasses.

You walked back into the living room, handed Carmen his drink, grabbed a seat next to him, and pulled out some coasters.

You watched intently as he took a sip, and you enjoyed the way his eyes lit up with each sip.

“This is so good, so what now….You’re a fuckin’ mixologist?”he teased.

"What can I say, I have my secret talents,”

“You do,” he paused. “Y’a know I googled you too,” he said slowly. “I saw a picture of you with your Advanced Sommelier lapel pin,”

“And?” you replied.

“Why have you never brought up the fact that you are a trained and certified Advanced Sommelier?”

“It’s not a big deal,” you shrugged.

He rolled his eyes and breathed your name. “That’s literally one of the hardest exams in the hospitality industry,”

“No, the Master Sommelier Exam is the hardest exam,” you quipped.

“So, is that what you wanna do one day?”

“Maybe,” you swallowed thickly, realizing it was something you hadn’t thought about in a long time since moving back to Chicago.

“You should do it,” he softly urged.

You let out a strangled laugh. “I wouldn’t pass,”

“You would, it’s you,” he said, and when you gazed up at him, the intensity of the look in his eyes left no room to doubt that he really believed what he was telling you.

“So, when did you google me?” you deflected, deciding to change the subject, since you never loved to be the center of attention.

“First day I met you,” he replied very quickly.

“What?” you asked, genuinely surprised.

"You were so quick with your response about the scallops," he fumbled with his words. "And when I recrafted the dish and it came out the way it did, I knew that you were special, so I had to look you up,"

You were taken aback by his comment, and he noticed and tried to recover. "I mean, not like special-special, but, you know, talented and stuff," he stumbled over his words.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by his flustered state. "So, I'm not special, just talented?" you teased, a playful grin spreading across your face.

"No, no, that's not what I meant," he backtracked. "I do think you're special, you're so special. I mean...uh...you're really amazin’ too,"

You chuckled softly, enjoying his discomfort. "It's okay, I know what you're trying to say," you reassured him. "And I think you're pretty amazing too."

As your eyes locked, he grabbed both of your drinks and set them down on your coffee table and then gently reached out to touch your cheek, making your breath catch in your throat. You felt him lower his face and closed your eyes preparing to feel his lips on yours but then he surprised you by pressing a trail of kisses down your neck and over the curve of your shoulder.

You sighed in contentment, feeling the warmth of his breath on your skin. Each kiss sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you. His touch was gentle yet possessive, as if he wanted to memorize every inch of you.

He slowly brought his lips up to meet yours, “This okay?” he murmured against your lips, his breath strained. You nodded softly. His hand quickly tangled in your hair, and he let out a low groan as he hungrily kissed you, his tongue brushed against your bottom lip before slipping inside your mouth and pushing his tongue against yours. You moaned softly in response, tangling your fingers in his hair as you kissed him back.

"God, I’ve been thinkin’ about this for so long," Carmen whispered breathlessly against your lips, his hands exploring your body eagerly.

“Me too,” You responded by pushing him down further into the cushions of your couch, straddling his lap as you began to grind against him, and felt his cock straining against you underneath his pants.

"Oh, fuck Carmen," you gasped, locking eyes with him as you continued to move against him.

Carmen groaned in response, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "You’re so fuckin’ sexy, I fuckin’ love it when you say my name like that," he confessed, as his tongue traced along your collarbone. You liked knowing that he could be your Carmy in public, and your Carmen in private.

You started to pull the straps down on your sundress, but then he placed a hand on your shoulder to stop you from going any further. You gave him a questioning glance, his chest heaving as he looked into your eyes with a mixture of longing and fear. “Wait,” he muttered. "I... I…can't...we can't do this," he stammered, his voice filled with regret.

"Why not?" you asked, unable to keep the hurt entirely out of your voice.

"Because I'm afraid it will ruin what we have. You’re the only thing that makes sense in my life. I don't wanna lose that, I can’t lose that," he explained, his words heavy with emotion.

"You won’t,” you stated softly, realizing that you couldn't actually make that promise, and so your fingers hesitantly reached for his face. He closed his eyes, his jaw clenched as he struggled to find the right words.

“How can you know that?” he sighed.

“I don’t, but I have a good hunch,” you smiled, repeating the words you had told him the first time you two met.

You felt him connect the dots and he opened his eyes and smiled back at you and moved his hands until his fingers traced the tops of your thighs.

“I just want you… me… us to be sure. This will change everythin’ baby,” he whispered, his blue eyes looked darker somehow.

Baby.

You reached out to gently cup his face, bringing his gaze to meet yours. "Carmy, I want everything to change," you confessed.

The assurance you offered seemed to set Carmen off, he leaned forward and kissed you roughly, pulled you closer, and his hands roamed over your body until you were a tangled mess of limbs, and he was now lying on top of you on your couch.

He slipped his hand under your dress, over your panties and you gasped out in pleasure as his fingers rubbed lazy circles against your clothed cunt.

“Carmen,” you whimpered, looking up at him with glossy eyes.

“Gotta do this right baby, wanna take my time… get you all nice n’ ready before you take my cock,”

His words made your mouth pop open. You felt the ache between your legs become stronger because you realized that he was talker and that was your favorite.

“I wanna make you feel good with my fingers and my mouth first,” He murmured.

He lifted your dress to your waist, pushed your panties to the side, and looked down and groaned as he rested his hand directly above your heat. “I want to put my mouth right here on this gorgeous pussy,” he praised.

You moaned, trying to focus on what you could say, but you could barely remember how to breathe.

“Words,” he growled, as he looked at you hungrily, eyes dark and hooded.

“I want this. I want you Carmen, god, I want you so bad,”

“Fuck,” he made a throaty noise. “Good girl,” he hissed as his fingers slowly started to circle around your entrance. “You’re so fuckin’ wet, this for me?”

“It’s all for you, I’m yours,” you whispered, feeling vulnerable suddenly.

His eyes softened. “Oh, fuck baby, I’m yours too,” he said placing a gentle kiss on your lips and slipping his fingers inside of you as he swallowed your moans.

That night you learned that Carmen wasn’t as shy as you thought. In fact, Carmen surprised you by taking charge and confidently leading the way.

xx

“Things are a clusterfuck at the restaurant, it’s gonna be a long night, I don’t think I can come over tonight, or else I’m gonna wake you up at like 2 in the mornin’ baby,” Carmen said when he stopped by during his lunch break with an adorable pout on his face.

“That’s okay, I’ll just hang out with my other boyfriend,” you teased across your shoulder as you stocked up on some new wine inventory.

He walked up behind you. “Not funny,” he growled in your ear, as he playfully spanked your ass. You two hadn’t formally had that conversation, but you assumed you were his girlfriend considering how many times he would call you ‘Mine’ during intimate moments, claiming you as his. And you could tell he liked that you had just referred to him as his boyfriend.

“Carmy, it’s fine, I’ll see you tomorrow,” you sighed comfortably as you felt his lips edge down the side of your neck and then stop to plant a soft kiss on your shoulder.

“You’re not mad?” he whispered.

“I promise I’m not mad,” you reassured him, knowing his anxiety sometimes got the best of him and turned around to give him a soft kiss on his lips and were about to pull away but then he gripped your face firmly with his hands and pressed your forehead to his.

You two were still so new, it had only been a couple of weeks since you had slept together the first time, and you hadn’t told The Bear staff yet since you two were trying to live in this bubble for a little longer. Even though, if you were honest, you had a feeling they knew. A recent experience in Carmen’s office may have ended with you being just a little too loud.

But, you were pretty sure about one thing.

You were in love with Carmen Berzatto, and even though he hadn’t said it to you yet. You had a good hunch that he was in love with you too.

xx

I wanted to write Carmy in a way that showed that he is the shy and reserved person we all know, but that once he feels comfortable with someone (that he wants to pursue romantically), he subconsciously becomes affectionate and flirtatious. He may not be the most outwardly expressive person, but with the right person, his once hesitant and cautious demeanor softens, revealing a more confident and outgoing side of him. I hope this version of Carmy resonates with people because to me this is how I would envision him during a crush and entering a healthy relationship <3

Also, I was shell shocked to learn from the world of Google how complicated it is to receive the designation of Master Sommelier. There are only 279 in the entire world, and it really is one of the hardest exams in the world with a pass rate of 3-8%. But, I have faith in our reader achieving this feat one day. She’s a queen!

🥝💚 Reblog + Support Writers + Comment 🥝💚 Thank you so much for reading! If you like this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging.

s1 is just. i love you grainy unfocused shots of cemeteries and foggy roads no one travels. i love you john’s journal as a bible. i love you sam driving the impala casually with dean sleeping in the passenger seat. i love you dark motels with neon signs and dusty libraries with huge lore books. i love you side character serving as a mirror to the winchesters. i love you cleaning guns and wounds and sharpening of knives and gas stations and flip phones and laptop stickers. i love you small towns where time stands still with something unknowable and hungry lurking in the shadows. i love you angry psychic kid sam and dean trying his best with a leather jacket too big for him. i love you looming presences of john and mary. i love you homemade and flawed equipment. i love you horror and tragedy and blood. i love you dramatic lighting and silhouettes. i love you folklore and local legends. i love you -

hiii could you please write something where reader doesn’t know ethan is gf and during sex he slips up and is like “ i would kill for you” or something like that and reader just thinks he’s being passionate but he’s being serious lol

he's fucking you so passionately, hips meeting yours with deep thrusts, his face hovering above yours so you can feel his warm breath against your nose and lips. he has a hand pressed into the pillow above your head, the other clinging onto your waist until you can feel his blunt nails digging into your skin.

"fuck, you feel so good," he tells you, his voice a little shaky but missing that whimper-y edge you're so used to. although, you're whimpering enough for the both of you, your sounds broken up with breaths that come from the harsh thrusts ethan's giving you.

"s...so do you," you compliment, but your words are butchered and it takes a few moments to get the three words out. ethan's lip curls up into a smile and you try to reflect the expression, but his cock angles just right and your mouth falls open in a moan instead.

your eyes pinch shut, but you quickly reopen them to look at ethan. the way his cheeks are flushed, how pink his lips are, his long eyelashes framing doe eyes that are lidded as he stares down at you. his hair bounces with each thrust, and your sudden desire to dig your nails into the locks overcomes you until your limbs react before your brain realizes it.

ethan sighs into the feeling, his thrusts faltering for just a second. "i ..." he stutters, hesitates, then tries again. "i would kill for you," his hand on your waist slides up until it sits below the column of your throat, splayed across your collarbones. you tilt your chin up as a way to give him permission, then his hand slides up to gently wrap around your throat, not squeezing. "you understand that?"

you nod, even though in this state you don't really understand. but your eyes are so watery and your eyebrows are pinched and you look so sincere so ethan leans down and presses his lips to yours.

"i mean that," he whispers, but you're lost in the moment, reaching your peak, nonverbally begging for ethans help to get you there. with his undying love and obsession for you in his mind, he helps you reach your climax until you're clenching around him, bringing him to his peak as well.

a list of 100+ buildings to put in your fantasy town

academy

adventurer's guild

alchemist

apiary

apothecary

aquarium

armory

art gallery

bakery

bank

barber

barracks

bathhouse

blacksmith

boathouse

book store

bookbinder

botanical garden

brothel

butcher

carpenter

cartographer

casino

castle

cobbler

coffee shop

council chamber

court house

crypt for the noble family

dentist

distillery

docks

dovecot

dyer

embassy

farmer's market

fighting pit

fishmonger

fortune teller

gallows

gatehouse

general store

graveyard

greenhouses

guard post

guildhall

gymnasium

haberdashery

haunted house

hedge maze

herbalist

hospice

hospital

house for sale

inn

jail

jeweller

kindergarten

leatherworker

library

locksmith

mail courier

manor house

market

mayor's house

monastery

morgue

museum

music shop

observatory

orchard

orphanage

outhouse

paper maker

pawnshop

pet shop

potion shop

potter

printmaker

quest board

residence

restricted zone

sawmill

school

scribe

sewer entrance

sheriff's office

shrine

silversmith

spa

speakeasy

spice merchant

sports stadium

stables

street market

tailor

tannery

tavern

tax collector

tea house

temple

textile shop

theatre

thieves guild

thrift store

tinker's workshop

town crier post

town square

townhall

toy store

trinket shop

warehouse

watchtower

water mill

weaver

well

windmill

wishing well

wizard tower