Sultan Murad IV

۶ৎ | is it too late.

Ragnar Lothbrok

⋆. | his little christian lamb.

Aegon the Conqueror

𐙚 | he aches for your love.

Dieter Hellstrom

🍓 | his rebellious darling wife.

Arjun Das

⤸ | your cruel husband.

Major Iqbal

🎀 | ᴄʜᴀɪ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ

Tim Bradford

⊹ ࣪ ˖ | a means to end.

Karna

☾. | ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴍᴇ ʜɪꜱ ᴡɪꜰᴇ

Cregan Stark

.ｏ♡ | ʜɪꜱ ꜱᴏꜰᴛ ᴍᴜᴛᴇ ᴡɪꜰᴇ

Deacon Kay

୨ৎ | ʜᴇ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ʜᴇʀ

Tim Bradford

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅ | ʜɪꜱ ʙʟɪɴᴅ ᴡɪꜰᴇ

Tim Bradford

✿ | ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ʜɪᴍ

Alaric Stark

♋︎ | ᴀ ꜱᴏᴜᴛʜᴇʀɴ Qᴜᴇᴇɴ ʜᴀꜱ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴅᴏᴏʀꜱ

Tim Bradford

⊹ ࣪ ˖ | ᴀ ᴅᴇᴄᴀᴅᴇ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ

Victor Tan

୨ৎ | ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀɴ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ

Maegor the Cruel

𐙚 | ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴀ ᴄʀᴜᴇʟ ᴛʏʀᴀɴᴛ

Henry viii

⚃ | ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴀᴠᴇ ʜɪᴍ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ

Aegon the Conqueror

𐙚 | ʜᴇ ʀᴇɢʀᴇᴛꜱ ɪᴛ

Alauddin Khalji

۶ৎ | ʜɪꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴀᴅᴏx

Tim Bradford

⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִ| ʜɪꜱ ᴡɪꜰᴇ ɪꜱ ɪɴᴊᴜʀᴇᴅ

Prince Charles

✶ | ᴇxʜᴀᴜꜱᴛᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ʜɪᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪꜱ ᴀꜰꜰᴀɪʀ

Carlisle Cullen

▨ | ʜᴇ ɪꜱ ʟᴇᴀᴠɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ, ʜɪꜱ ꜱᴏᴜʟᴍᴀᴛᴇ

Cregan Stark

🍯| ʜɪꜱ ʟᴀɴɴɪꜱᴛᴇʀ ʙʀɪᴅᴇ

Prince Daemon

▣ | ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜɪᴍ

Hans Landa

🌙 | ʜɪꜱ ʟᴏᴠᴇʟʏ ᴡɪꜰᴇ

Tim Bradford

𓀌 | ʙʟɪꜱꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ

Hans Landa

🌸 | ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛʀʏꜱɪᴅᴇ ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ

Alaric Stark

Ი︵𐑼 | ᴀ ᴍᴇᴅᴅʟᴇꜱᴏᴍᴇ Qᴜᴇᴇɴ ɪɴᴛᴇʀʀᴜᴘᴛꜱ ʏᴏᴜ

John Shelby

*ੈ | ʜɪꜱ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ

Sehzade Bayezid

۶ৎ | ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ꜱᴜᴄʜ ᴀ Qᴜɪᴇᴛ ɢɪʀʟ

Cregan Stark

⌒♥*:･。. | ʜᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴛꜱ ʏᴏᴜ...ꜱᴏ ʙᴀᴅʟʏ

Maegor the Cruel

░ | ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ʙᴏʀɴ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ʜɪꜱ ᴡɪꜰᴇ

Alaric Stark

─ .✦ | ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴀɴᴅ

Sultan Suleiman

જ⁀➴ | ᴍᴏᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ʜɪꜱ ʟɪꜰᴇ

Raghav Shetty

⠡ | ʜɪꜱ ᴀʀʀᴀɴɢᴇᴅ ᴍᴀʀʀɪᴀɢᴇ ᴡɪꜰᴇ

Hondo Harrelson

ִֶָ. .. | ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴄɪᴇɴᴛɪꜱᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴡᴀᴛ ᴄᴀᴘᴛᴀɪɴ

Victor Tan

୨ৎ | ᴀ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛɪꜰᴜʟ ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ

Dieter Hellstrom

⋆𖦹.✧˚ | ʜɪꜱ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴡɪꜰᴇ

Mitchell Starc

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋ | ᴀᴄʜɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ

Ragnar Lothbrok

罒 | ʜᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴛꜱ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴍᴘᴀʟᴇʀ

Aemond One Eye

⬚ | ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴛᴏᴘᴘᴇᴅ ʟᴏᴠɪɴɢ ʜɪᴍ

Tom Marvolo Riddle

ɞ .｡ | ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ʜɪꜱ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ

Prince Phillip

♡ | ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴄʜᴏʀ ɪɴ ʜɪꜱ ᴠᴇɪɴꜱ

Hondo Harrelson

░ | ʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ꜰɪɢʜᴛ ᴡᴀʀꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ

Prince Daemon

❥ | ᴋɴᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ

Anthony Bridgerton

▹ | ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀ ꜰᴇᴀᴛʜᴇʀɪɴɢᴛᴏɴ

Deacon Kay

୨ৎ | ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛʏ ᴏꜰ ʟɪꜰᴇ

Viserys iii

⬚ | ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʜɪᴍ

Victor Tan

୨ৎ | ʜɪꜱ ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ

Thomas Shelby

ྀི꒱ა | ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀ ɢʏᴘꜱ ᴡɪᴛᴄʜ

Marco

࣪ ִֶָ☾. | ɢᴏᴅ ʜᴇʟᴘ ᴛʜᴏꜱᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ

Simon Basset

♡.°⑅ | ᴀ ᴍᴀʀʀɪᴀɢᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏɴᴠᴇɴɪᴇɴᴄᴇ

Hondo Harrelson

ꜛ | ʜɪꜱ ᴄᴀꜰᴇ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ ɢɪʀʟꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ

Volturi Kings

♡ | ᴇᴅᴡᴀʀᴅ'ꜱ ᴛʀɪᴀʟ

Dieter Hellstrom

🦢 | ɢʟᴀꜱꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴛᴇᴇʟ

Henry Winter

𐙚 | ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪᴛᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴏꜰᴛ ʜᴏᴜʀꜱ

Garuda

࣪ ִֶָ☾. | ʜɪꜱ ꜱɪʟᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴀʟᴠᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

Vikas Khanna

your overprotective husband ⠽

Abrar Haque

✶ | insatiable lust.

Uchiha Madara

⊂⊃ | ʜɪꜱ ᴜᴢᴜᴍᴀᴋɪ ᴡɪꜰᴇ

Hondo Harrelson

୨ৎ | ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴀɪɴ ɪꜱ ʜɪꜱ ᴛᴏᴏ

Dieter Hellstrom

༘ ⋆｡˚ | ʀᴇᴜɴɪᴏɴ

Senju Hashirama

∫.₊̣̇. | ᴜᴢᴜᴍᴀᴋɪ ᴡɪꜰᴇ

Achilles

﹢ | he aches for you.

Thomas Shelby

💎 | ᴄᴏʟᴅ ʜᴜꜱʙᴀɴᴅ

Deacon Kay

୨ৎ | ᴀ ᴜɴɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ʀᴀꜱᴘʙᴇʀʀʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀꜰꜰᴇɪɴᴇ

Louis Mountbatten

♡ | ​ᴏꜰ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴅᴜꜱᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴏꜱᴇꜱ

Prince Rhaegar

𐙚 | ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏꜱᴏᴍ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴘʀɪɴɢ

Deacon Kay

୨ৎ | ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴏꜱꜱᴀᴍᴇʀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ

Amon Goeth

ֶָ֢⊹𐙚 | ᴘᴏʀᴄᴇʟᴀɪɴ ɪɴ ᴀ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴡᴏʟᴠᴇꜱ

Abrar Haque

✕ | sweet singing wife.

Maegor the Cruel

▦ | ʜᴇ ᴍᴀꜱꜱᴀᴄʀᴇꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ

Uchiha Madara

≋ | ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏʟᴅ ʜᴜꜱʙᴀɴᴅ

Dominique Luca

🍎 | ᴀ ʟɪꜰᴇ ᴀꜱ ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ ᴀꜱ ʀᴇᴠᴇʀɪᴇ

Hondo Harrelson

୨ৎ | ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴀᴡᴀɪᴛꜱ ᴛʜᴏꜱᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ʜᴜʀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ

Felix Volturi

→ | ʜɪꜱ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ᴍᴀᴛᴇ

Bunny Corcoran

. ⊹ ₊ ݁. | ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏꜰᴛ ʀᴏᴛ ᴏꜰ ɢᴏʟᴅᴇɴ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ

Frederick Zoller

☾𖤓 | ᴄᴏʀᴅɪᴀʟ ᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴄᴏꜰꜰɪɴ

Alaric Stark

🥎 | ᴀ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ

Sehzade Mehmed

ྀིྀི | ꜱᴘɪᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱɪʟᴋ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴏᴠᴇʀɴᴇʀ'ꜱ ɢᴀʀᴅᴇɴ

Nick Amaro

🎀 | ʜɪꜱ ᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴡɪꜰᴇ

Tim Bradford

≋ | ʟɪᴋᴇ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴍᴇᴛ

Baelon the Brave

𐙚 | ʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ

Deacon Kay

୨ৎ | ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟɪꜰᴇ ɴᴇᴀʀʟʏ ʟᴏꜱᴛ

Tom Marvolo Riddle

✦ | ʜɪꜱ ꜱᴏᴜʟᴍᴀᴛᴇ

Hondo Harrelson

▦ | ʜɪꜱ ꜱɪᴄᴋʟʏ ᴡɪꜰᴇ

POLICE Aaron Thorsen

⋆ | Cop ' the way he watches.

Zero Wolf

ೀ | ᴄʜɪᴇꜰᴛᴀɪɴ'ꜱ ʜᴏᴍᴇᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ

Ragnar Lothbrok

✹ | ʜᴇ ᴄʀᴀᴠᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɴᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ

Aziz Haque

✿ | ᴍᴏɴꜱᴛʀᴏᴜꜱ ʜᴜꜱʙᴀɴᴅ

SULTAN SULEIMAN

∞ | infatuated with you.

Schutzstafel

♱ | ʏᴏᴜʀ 4 ꜰᴏʀᴄᴇᴅ ʜᴜꜱʙᴀɴᴅꜱ

AMON GOETH

𝄞 reunion.

Chef Julian Slowik

🧸ྀི | ᴍɪꜱᴇ ᴇɴ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ

Arthur Dayne

◖| ᴀʟʟ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴛꜱ, ɪꜱ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴀ ꜱɪᴍᴘʟᴇ ꜰʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ

Dieter Hellstrom

♡ ༘ | ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇᴀᴄʜ ʀᴏᴏᴍ

Arjun Sharma

ᡣ𐭩 | ᴀ ᴘᴇʀᴘʟᴇxɪɴɢ ᴍᴀʀʀɪᴀɢᴇ

DUNCAN THE TALL

ྀིྀི | his wife of convenience.

Tywin Lanister

⋆˚࿔ | ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀɴ ᴇɴɪɢᴍᴀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ

Aegon the Conqueror

ʬʬ | ʜᴇ ꜰᴏRᴄɪʙʟʏ ᴍᴀʀʀɪᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ

SULTAN SULEIMAN

🐙 | the empire's quiet flame.

Hondo Harrelson

⇆ | ʟɪᴋᴇ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴍᴇᴛ

THEO SHARPE

ೀ | his soul is yours.

Willas Tyrell

𐙚 | ꜱʟᴏᴡʟʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀʀᴇꜰᴜʟʟʏ

Amit Lodha

𝒾 | ᴀ ɴᴇᴡ ᴘᴏꜱᴛɪɴɢ

DIETER HELLSTROM

⍢ | mortician wife.

Chef Julian Slowik

🎩| ʜᴀᴜɴᴛɪɴɢ ꜱᴏꜰᴛɴᴇꜱꜱ

Wade Grey

△ | ꜱᴛɪʟʟɴᴇꜱꜱ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀᴍ

Anthony Bridgerton

ᰔ | ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴᴠᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴜꜱ

Hondo Harrelson

𓅅 | ᴛʜᴇʏ ʟɪᴠᴇᴅ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴏɴᴄᴇ, ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴀʟʟ

Tim Bradford

☆.•° | ʜᴏᴡ ɪ ᴍᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴏᴍᴍᴀ

Franz Sauer

𓂃 ⋆ᡣ𐭩 | ʟᴀᴄᴇ, ʟɪᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀᴠᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ʜᴏᴜʀ

Aditya Mishra

◂ | ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴍɪꜱɪᴏɴᴇʀ'ꜱ ᴡɪꜰᴇ

Hondo Harrelson

୨ৎ | ᴅᴀᴍɴ ᴀɴɢᴇʀ ɪꜱꜱᴜᴇꜱ

Vihaan Singh Shergil

𓁕 | ʜɪꜱ ᴀʀʀᴀɴɢᴇᴅ ᴍᴀʀʀɪᴀɢᴇ ᴡɪꜰᴇ

Prince Daemon

𐙚 | ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ ɴɪᴇᴄᴇ

Mahavir Singh Phogat

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋ | ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴍᴇʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴘᴀʀᴀᴛʜᴀ

K ukulkan

𓍼 | ꜱᴋʏ ᴍᴇᴇᴛꜱ ꜱᴇᴀ

Dieter Hellstrom

➳❤︎ | ꜱᴇʀᴇɴᴅɪᴘɪᴛʏ

Otto Skorzeny

♡ᰔ૮ | ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʟꜰ'ꜱ ᴅᴇɴ

Sakamaki Subaru

( ੭ | ʜɪꜱ ᴀɴɢᴇʟɪᴄ ᴡɪꜰᴇ

Henry viii

⇥ | ɴᴏ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ʜɪᴍ ᴀɴʏᴍᴏʀᴇ

Alaric Stark

◣ | ᴀ ʙᴏɴᴅ ᴡᴇʟʟ-ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴅ

MARCUS VOLTURI

♡.°⑅ | didyme's reincarnation.

SULTAN SULEIMAN

★ | whispers in the golden cage.

Abid ul Haque

Ꜣ | silken chains.

Johnny Foote

♾️ | ʜɪꜱ ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ ɢɪʀʟ

Kemankes Pasha

ꔠ | ʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀ

BRYNDEN RIVERS

# | does he still love shiera.

SULTAN SULEIMAN

ᯓ | the flame that burns the sultan's heart.

NANAMI KENTO

ﮩ٨ـﮩ | the woes of kotatsu.

SEHZADE MUSTAFA

🌸 | crimson threads in the tent of war.

Wade Grey

△ | ᴛʀᴀɴꜱꜰᴇʀʀᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜɪᴍ

Oliver Mellors

The hut held its quiet like a held breath. Oliver paused just inside the door, boots damp with moss and soil, the smell of the woods still clinging to him. The fire had burned down to embers. Good. He preferred it that way — warmth without noise. Outside, the estate lay hushed, trees bent low under the weight of evening. You sat at the table. Not reading. Not working. Just sitting — one leg moving in that restless rhythm you never seemed able to stop, fingers worrying at your nails until the skin around them flushed pink. Your shoulders were slightly hunched, narrow beneath the beige wool, as if you were bracing against something unseen. *She’s drifting again,* he thought. *Too far this time.* He closed the door quietly behind him. You didn’t look up. That, more than anything, told him what he needed to know. Homesick. The word carried the taste of cold air and stone hills. Wind through heather. A place that didn’t hem you in. He felt the weight of it settle in his chest — not guilt exactly, but responsibility. *I brought her here. Asked her to live small for my sake.* He crossed the room without hurry. Army training had taught him how to move without sound, but with purpose. He knelt beside you instead of standing over you, a conscious choice, and rested his hand on your knee. Broad palm. Steady pressure. Your leg stilled instantly. Good. He studied you closely — the pasty skin, the wide face made sharper by worry, the way your light eyes stared past the walls as if they might thin enough to show you the Highlands if you looked hard enough. The scent of you rose faint and familiar — pineapple, coconut, a hint of gingerbread — soft and domestic and deeply his. *She’s been good. Too good.* His thumb moved slowly through the wool, grounding you where words could not. He didn’t need speech to know what sat heavy in you. You carried it in the tension of your hands, the way you leaned inward instead of outward, conserving yourself. His hand slid to your waist then, firm and certain. A claim. Not cruel — never cruel with you — but unmistakable. You leaned into him without hesitation. *There you are.* Oliver bent his head, forehead brushing your hair, breath warm and even. He let himself stay there a moment longer than necessary, anchoring you with weight and warmth, with presence. *She thinks I don’t see it. Thinks she has to bear it alone.* He tightened his arm around you, enclosing you fully against his chest. You fit there naturally — narrow, restless, made calm by contact. He felt the small movements ease under his hold, the constant shifting slow. *That’s what she needs. Not talk. Just ground beneath her feet.* He stayed like that, listening to your breathing change, listening to the hut settle around you. Outside, the woods whispered — not the Highlands, but close enough for now. His hand rose to your jaw, thumb brushing along the line of it, rough against soft. He lifted your face just enough to look at you properly. Your eyes met his — quiet, aching, trusting. *Mine,* the thought came again, instinctive and unshakeable. “I won’t keep you caged,” he said softly into the stillness. His voice was low, controlled, meant more for himself than for you. “Not if it costs you yourself.” He rested his forehead against yours, breath mingling with yours, unhurried. “You’ll see your hills again,” he murmured. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Hans Landa

🗝️ | ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇᴅ

Otto Hightower

▩ | ᴛᴏᴏ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ

Kuntiputras

꒱ॱ◌̥*⃝ | | ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴡɪꜰᴇ

Cygnus Black

♡ | ʟɪᴠɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ

HANS LANDA

🌷͙₊˚*ੈ♡ wintery delights.

Chef Julian Slowik

ᡣ𐭩 | ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ

Gojo Satoru

♡ ༘ | ꜰʀᴀᴛ ʙᴏʏ

Virendra Chaudhary

◤ | ᴀʀʀᴀɴɢᴇᴅ ᴍᴀʀʀɪᴀɢᴇ ʜᴜꜱʙᴀɴᴅ

Orys Baratheon

✿ | ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀ ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ ᴅᴏᴇ

AERYS II

.ೃ࿔*:･ | he is turning mad.

SHIVA

𓀾 | you are sati.

Arthur Shelby

🎀 | ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏᴜʀɢʟᴀꜱꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʙʀᴜɪꜱᴇʀ

Deacon Kay

୭ | ꜰᴇʟʟ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴀᴛ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ꜱɪɢʜᴛ

Addam Velaryon

☄ | ᴅʀᴀɢᴏɴꜱᴇᴇᴅ ʜᴜꜱʙᴀɴᴅ

Baelon the Brave

ᯓ★ | ᴀ ꜱᴄᴀɴᴅᴀʟ ᴘʟᴀɢᴜᴇ

Abhijit Pandey

➧ | an unforgivable offense.

Aemond One Eye

▥ | ʜᴇ ᴄʀᴀᴠᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜ

DEV CHAUDHARY

◈ | you were his dying wife.

Arthur Shelby

˙✧˖° | ʙᴀᴄᴋ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴡᴀʀ

Achilles

۶ৎ | ᴛʜᴇ ʙʀᴏɴᴢᴇ ʜᴏᴜʀꜱ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀᴍ

Vikram Sinha

🧸 | ʜɪꜱ ʜɪʀᴀᴇᴛʜ

THOMAS SHELBY

⋆ | meat, peas and gossip.

Dominique Luca

✩♬ ₊˚. | ᴍᴏʀᴛɪᴄɪᴀɴ ᴡɪꜰᴇ

DIETER HELLSTROM

⤷ | the raven watches.

Slytherin Husbands

🧶 | ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʀ ɪꜱ ᴏᴠᴇʀ

DIETER HELLSTROM

⚝ | the cyan flame.

Akhil Bharadwaj

◟| ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴄɪᴛʏ ᴇᴀᴛꜱ ᴡᴏᴍᴇɴ

ALARIC SALVATORE

*✲⋆ | drug-lord husband.

Aegon the Conqueror

౨ৎ | ᴇᴍʙʀᴏɪᴅᴇʀʏ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴜɴꜱᴇᴛꜱ

Alphard Pollux Black

°❀⋆. | ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ Qᴜɪᴇᴛ, ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴄᴋᴏɴɪɴɢ

Jason Duval

✎ | ᴍᴇʀᴄʏ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴀꜱᴋᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀ

FREDERICK ZOLLER

ɞ˚‧｡⋆ reunion.

Brandon Stark

↪ | ᴀ ꜰʟɪʀᴛɪɴɢ ʜᴜꜱʙᴀɴᴅ

DEWEY RILEY

̊ | the only shelter he knows.

DIONYSUS

◐ | his everything.

Damon Salvatore

✺ | ᴇᴜɴᴏɪᴀ, ᴀ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛɪꜰᴜʟ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ

SULTAN SULEIMAN

࣪ ִֶָ☾. | the lilac hour.

DIETER HELLSTROM

⌗ | in the quiet between shadows.

CREGAN STARK

🐇 | his enslaved wife.

EROS

◖you are his soulmate◗

BALRAM

@ | you are his wife, revati.

GODRIC GRYFFINDOR

*♡ꕤ after the sword.

AUGUST VAN DER HOLT

⋅ ˚✮ | cherry smoke and jungle gold.

AEGOR RIVERS

𓂃 ⋆ᡣ𐭩 | your husband never rested.

Robert Bartheon

🫧 | ᴇʏᴇ ᴏꜰ ʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀᴍ

MILITARY TEAM

𖥔 | their sniper wife.

Abhiram Chaturvedi

♖ | train journey.

HOMELANDER

✧.* | the sky between us.

MARK JOHNSON

ꈊ ᵔ｡` | traditional husband

OTTOMAN Suleiman

𝜗ৎ | Sultan ‘ the emperor who kneeled for you.

Henry Winter

ꕤ | ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʏᴘʀᴇꜱꜱ ʟᴇᴀɴꜱ

ARES

✶ | you were an exception.

ALEC VOLTURI

🛕 | you are back home.

Arthur Dayne

∇ | ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ ʜɪᴍ

SIMON BASSET

⋆ | a poetical grotesque.

Henry Winter

⟡ | ʀᴀɪɴꜰᴀʟʟ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴜɪɴ

Gen Hugh Beresford

◌ | ʜᴇ ᴄʀᴀᴠᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ, ʜɪꜱ ʀᴀᴊᴘᴜᴛ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇꜱꜱ

ALEXEI KARENIN

☆ | gone for you.

TIM BRADFORD

📿| melancholy.

ANTHONY BRIDGERTON

✞ | the bane of his existence.

THOMAS SHELBY

ྀི≼ | the flowers in the newspaper.

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

⪨ | he was a simp for you, his senpai.

AEMOND ONE EYE

♡ | the storm in the tower.

BARUN ROY

.ೃ࿔*: | widdiful.

Nawab Mohammud

𓅗 | ʜɪꜱ ʙᴇɢᴜᴍ

AEGON THE UNLIKELY

𐙚𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋ | an unlikely queen, you were.

ARES

ᶻz | pregnant with his child.

ARO VOLTURI

ᕕ | his fae queen.

FREDERICK ZOLLER

✿˖˚ ༘𐙚 wintery delights.

AURANE WATERS

🐱 | marrying your bastard uncle.

PRINCE FRIEDRICH

: ̗̀➛ | lost for you.

Sam Cahill

you are his wife 𓅃

LAXMAN

*°⋆❆ | the beauty of silence.

PATRICK PADDY FELD

૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა | the friendship bracelet still holds.

TYWIN LANISTER

💅🏻 | his strange new wife.

AUGUST VAN DER HOLT

༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻ | you are all he ever wanted love to be.

DILEEP SINGH

⇰ | your husband.

HENRY WINTER

★ | the cot in the library.

AMIT LODHA

𖡼.𖤣𖥧 | hunger.

DONNY DONOWITZ

ִ ࣪ ˖ ࣪ wintery delights.

Rudra Pratap Singh

you are his wife ~

BUNNY CORCORAN

. ݁₊ ⊹ | the gospel according to ruin.

PATRICK PADDY FELD

꒰ ˆ ꒵ ˆ꒱ | his nightmares.

Edward Ed Green

✱ | his wife.

AGATSYA DESHPANDE

𓃚 | he knew you by heart.

ANTHONY BRIDGERTON

🍒 | a tremble in stillness.

DEACON KAY

✨ | mortician wife.

henry winter

❁ | ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀʀʙʟᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴇʟᴛᴇᴅ

HENRY WINTER

🎀 | hymns for the mortal boy.

AEMOND ONE EYE

დ | you are drunk.

KING AASHRIT

@ | someone to contend with.

HENRY WINTER

⋆ | the temple cracks, and i let him in.

KUNAL BAHL

𝜗ৎ | sweet wife.

DIETER HELLSTROM

ཐི༏ཋྀ | nadine's firecracker.

HANNIBAL LECTER

✎💣 | in the house of hungering silence.

HENRY WINTER

❁ | the fracture beneath the coloumn.

John Dutton

ꂦ | ʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴜʙʙᴏʀɴ ᴡɪꜰᴇ

BALTHAZAR AVERY

🐇་༘࿐ | the price of obedience.

ANTHONY BRIDGERTON

✦ | a study in slate and smoke.

Maegor Targaryen

his fourth wife #

TOM MARVOLO RODDLE

˚ 𓆉 the unquiet dead.

BAELON THE BRAVE

⋆˚࿔ | your happy little family.

PRINCE DAEMON

⎙ | you were his obsession.

ARO VOLTURI

❰❰ | you are his depressed soulmate.

APOLLO

▽ | you are pregnant with his child.

henry winter

⊹ | ᴛʜᴇ ᴇQᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ʙʟᴜᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴢᴜʀᴇ

ADDAM VELARYON

⋆˚｡| besotted with you.

SCHUTZSTAFEL

♱ your 4 forced husbands.

GUNTHER SCHELLER

၄၃ soft sweet life.

ZENIN TOJI

✧˚ ⋆ | the beast and the wit.

DARK FALL RP

⋆｡𖦹 ° | the captured princess.

Abhinav Tiwari

♆ | the return after deployment.

BLACK HUSBANDS

⇏ | you were their keeper.

UHTRED RAGNARSSON

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 he just got married to you.

PRINCE DAEMON

🎧 | your husband is back.

BARTEMIUS CROUCH JR

🎀⋆ | sanctified in your silence.

LI JIAN

⪨ | disfigured princely husband.

SHIVAANSH

✿ | he is obsessed with you.

CHARLIE MAYHEW

ა ♡ | litany for a gold coloured wife.

JOHN SHELBY

⭒˚.⋆⭒ back from war.

JAMES SIRIUS REMUS

╰┈➤ combustion of love.

BARTEMIUS CROUCH JR

˚.🎀 | where the bruises bloom.

PRINCE FRIEDRICH

⊂⊃ the prince and the admiral.

SALAZAR SLYTHERIN

˚⊹ in the forest of pain and godblood.

Oliver Mellors

Winter came early that year, slipping down from the trees like a held breath finally released. The frost clung to the hut before dawn, silvering the low roof, stiffening the earth until even the birds kept quiet. Oliver woke before the light, as he always did. Army habit. Body remembering cold mornings that had meant death if you lingered. You were already awake. He knew it without looking. He could hear it in the way the kettle was set down too carefully, in the small restless scrape of your chair against the floor, in the faint, maddening rhythm of your legs moving beneath the table. You were burning yourself out again. He could smell it—pineapple and coconut warming against damp wool, gingerbread faint as a promise that hadn’t quite kept. *She’ll work herself hollow if I let her,* he thought, not unkindly. *Like a terrier worrying a bone, long after there’s nothing left to take.* You had your sleeves rolled, hands red and raw from the cold water, hair pinned back with no care for beauty. Not that it mattered. He felt the familiar pull in his chest anyway—the ache of it, steady and low, like a banked fire. You were thin as a winter reed, narrow-shouldered, legs too short for the way you paced the room, biting your nails as you stared at the small cupboard as if you could bargain more food out of it by force of will. Money was thin. He knew it. He counted every coin the way he once counted bullets. But watching you ration yourself—skipping bites, stretching broth thin as rainwater—set something old and dangerous stirring in him. *I did not crawl out of that war to watch my wife starve in silence,* he thought. *Not you. Never you.* He crossed the hut quietly, boots soundless on the packed earth floor. When he reached you, he didn’t speak at first. Just rested a hand at your waist—firm, possessive, grounding. His palm fit there as if it had been shaped for it, broad and warm against your cold through the thin fabric. You stilled immediately. That, more than anything, told him what he needed to know. *Obliging,* he thought, with a flicker of something like guilt. *Always so bloody obliging. Even when you’re running yourself ragged.* He leaned down, breath brushing the side of your head, beard rough against your temple. You smelled like comfort and effort and the small stubborn hope you carried into everything. It undid him in ways no shellfire ever had. “Enough,” he said at last, voice low, Scottish burr softened by restraint. Not a command barked. A decision made. You didn’t answer. You never did. But your shoulders drew in, instinctive, and he felt the tension there—your habit of yielding even when you shouldn’t. That was when his hand tightened, not to hurt, but to remind. *She needs boundaries like earth needs frost,* he thought. *Else she spreads herself too thin and vanishes.* He turned you gently but decisively, guiding you to the chair by the hearth. Pressed you down with a hand at your shoulder. Solid. Certain. The way he had once positioned men under fire—only now there was no urgency, no violence. Just care disguised as authority. “You’ll sit,” he said quietly. “And you’ll warm yourself.” Your eyes lifted to him then—those pale, piercing blue eyes that saw straight through his silences. You didn’t smile. You didn’t argue. Your legs kept moving, restless even as you obeyed. *She’s the only thing I came back for*, he thought. *Didn’t know it till I had her. Didn’t know I was empty till she filled the space.* He crouched in front of you, large frame folding down, hands surprisingly gentle as he wrapped your weak fingers around the warm mug he’d poured. His thumb brushed your knuckles, rough skin against softness. “I’ve got this,” he murmured, more to himself than you. “You keep the fire. That’s your work.”

DAMIEN SINCLAIR

.｡*ﾟ+.*. | 1940s husband.

OBANAI IGURO

♡ | you had saved his life in the past.

RUSTOM PAVRI

｡*ﾟ.*.｡ | he protects you.

Cregan Stark

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ | winter's claim.

DEATH EATER HUSBANDS

Χ | gained 5 husbands.

CREGAN STARK

🐭 | yandere for you.

John Shelby

marrying a stranger @

BILLY BUTCHER

^᪲᪲᪲ | wreckage in the nursery.

MARCUS VOLTURI

( ˊᵕˋ ) | he remembers.

HOMELANDER

★ | his woman.

BARTEMIUS CROUCH JR

𖦹 | velora's blue ribbon.

KING VISERYS

𓆝 𓆟 arranged marriage.

CRISTON COLE

⋅⋆ ─ | steel and straw.

PRINCE DAEMON

⋆.*⃝̥◌ॱ꒰ | in love with a bastard.

PRINCE DAEMON

𓅈 | reincarnated as laena.

henry winter

𝜗ৎ | ᴛʜᴇ ꜱʜᴀᴘᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰʟᴀᴍᴇ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴜꜱ

PAUL ANDS EMBRY

੯゜| meadow picnic.

ADVAIT JOSHI

𓀌 | golgappa shennaigans.

IVOR VALENTINE

*♡ | your owner.

CREGAN STARK

་༘࿐ | the sabre mazurka.

Simon Basset

₊˚ʚ | royal wife.

JOHN NOLAN

𓃫 | c'est la vie.

GODWYN THE GOLDEN

🎀ྀི the sunlight between.

Donny Donowitz

✦ | you are the nzi hunter.

henry winter

❄ | ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏʟʟᴀᴘꜱᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ

SAGOR TALUKDAR

･*❆ ₊⋆ | one day, three autumns.

FREDERICK ZOLLER

.ೃ࿔*:･ the quiet between gunfire.

MESSMER THE IMPALER

➜ | where the golden falls.

ALEJANDRO VARGAS

ᝰ.ᐟ | four roses, four names.

BENEDICT BRIDGERTON

⋆ | in the stillness of candlelight.

Kayce Dutton

♖ | ᴀ ᴍᴀɴ ꜱᴘʟɪᴛ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ʙʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ

PRINCE DAEMON

. 𖦹˙— you are his sister-wife.

KLAUS JAGER

꒰ ˆ ꒵ ˆ꒱ | you knitted a scarf for him.

Abeer Singh

𓅕 | seven days of madness.

AEMOND ONE EYE

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ | a forced union.

DEACON KAY

❥ | discharged from the hospital.

IPS ARJUN MAITRA

🤍 | the lost art.

DEVANSH JOSHI

𓆰 | your husband through arranged marriage.

ARTHUR DAYNE

◕ | he...he has started loving you.

AEMOND ONE EYE

⊹ ࣪ ˖ | the quiet between storms.

harwin strong

✶ | ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀᴍ ʙᴇɴᴇᴀᴛʜ ʜɪꜱ ʙʀᴇᴀꜱᴛᴘʟᴀᴛᴇ

KESHAV CHETIA

⇵ | your arranged marriage husband.

Greg House

The diagnostics office was lit like an interrogation room—too bright, too honest. Whiteboard cluttered with half-erased differential lists, arrows crossing like arguments that never resolved. House sat in his chair at an angle that made his leg hate him slightly less, cane hooked against the desk, Vicodin bottle conspicuously absent. He noticed that. He always noticed that. You were at the counter by the window, back to him, rinsing a mug with methodical patience. His mug. Blue ceramic, chipped at the rim. The kettle clicked off behind you, steam ghosting up and fogging the glass. You wore that jumper again—the neutral one that somehow made the world quieter just by existing in it. Necklace resting at your throat, the cheap little prize he’d won with rigged darts and a smile he hadn’t earned. *She’s rearranging my office. Again. Subtle invasion. Paramedic tactic. Secure the scene. Control the variables.* You didn’t ask permission. You never did. You just moved things—papers squared, a pen set parallel to the desk, his jacket folded over the chair like it belonged there. It annoyed him. Which meant it worked. House watched your hands. He always did. Short fingers, steady. No tremor. A person who could thread an IV in a moving ambulance and still have the decency not to brag about it. When you reached for the kettle, the sleeve slid back, exposing skin the color of late afternoon—warm, unpretentious. His leg flared. Sharp. Mean. *Great. Pain spike. Either it’s neuropathic or psychosomatic. Or—plot twist—it’s my body reminding me I exist and I hate that.* You crossed the room and set the mug down within reach. Steam carried turmeric and clove and something faintly sweet. Clary sage. He told everyone he hated tea. He told you nothing. You just knew. Always did. House stared at the mug like it had personally insulted him. “Tea,” he said, flat. “The beverage equivalent of giving up.” You didn’t react. Didn’t smile. Didn’t correct him. You leaned against the desk instead, close enough that he could smell cherry bubble bath under the antiseptic of the hospital. Clean and soft and unfair. *She knows I’ll drink it. She also knows I’ll pretend I’m not grateful. Marriage is a sustained experiment in mutual manipulation.* He picked up the mug. Drank. Too fast. Burned his tongue. Deserved it. Across the room, the whiteboard glared back at him. A case stalled in purgatory. Labs inconclusive. Team circling the wrong answers like bored vultures. “You know what the problem is?” he said, to the room, to the case, to you without looking. “Everyone wants meaning. Patients want a story. Doctors want a hero. Religion wants a reason. Biology just wants to be annoying.” You shifted your weight. Socked feet barely audible on linoleum. He felt it more than heard it—your presence adjusting, like pressure equalizing. *She’s listening. Not judging. That’s the dangerous part.* His gaze flicked to you then—really looked. Short. Petite. Unassuming like a closed book everyone underestimated until it corrected them. Pale grey eyes watching him with that maddening calm, like weather you’d already predicted. *She sees me. Not the genius. Not the bastard. The mechanism. The flaw. The man who could’ve been three different people and chose the worst possible compromise out of spite.* House swallowed another mouthful of tea. “My blood type’s AB,” he muttered. “Universal recipient. I take from everyone. Give to no one.” You reached out then—just your fingers, light as a hypothesis—and adjusted the angle of the mug so it wouldn’t spill. You didn’t touch him. Not really. He flinched anyway. *There it is. That stupid reflex. Like my nervous system recognizes kindness as a foreign body.* His jaw tightened. He hated that you could do that without trying. Without saying a word. Hated it the way addicts hate mirrors. “You’re my emergency contact,” he went on, voice dry, almost bored. “Which is ridiculous. If I’m unconscious, the last thing I need is someone who’ll actually care.”

Rishu Saxena

your innocent yet twisted husband ☸

PRINCE DAEMON

🫧 | he's courting you.

PRINCE DAEMON

ᥫ᭡ | you wont be taken away from him.

AEMON DRAGONKNIGHT

𓃾 | he chose you.

STEFAN SALVATORE

␥ | he loves you.

DEVENDRA KHATRI

𐔌՞. .՞𐦯 | the nsg commando and the it officer.

KARAN KASHYAP

𓁈 | his arranged marriage wife.

ALFIE SOLOMONS

ᬊ᭄꧂ back from war.

AEGON THE CONQUEROR

─୨ৎ | you are his bastard queen.

BRAN THE BUILDER

★ | he kneels to you.

RAM

➨ | you are sita.

THOMAS SHELBY

˙✧˖° he doesn't love you, yet you are his wife.

POLICE Aarav Rawal

⠿ | Cop ' for chinna.

TYWIN LANISTER

ꨄ | arranged marriage husband.

PRINCE DAEMON

ᯓᡣ𐭩 | married to the second daughter.

GWAYNE HIGHTOWER

🦢 | the vow made in violet.

KING JAEHAERYS

𓅥 | your elder brother-husband.

PRINCE AEMON

⠔ | a bloody night.

RAGNAR LOTHBROK

۶ৎ | pressing herbs to the soil.

Wayne McCullough Jr

♝ | ʜᴇ'ꜱ ʜᴜʀᴛ

henry winter

⋈ | ᴄʜɪᴀʀᴏꜱᴄᴜʀᴏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ

MANU CHANDRA

♡ | silfira, an inner quiet confidence.

CHARLES MACAULAY

*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐 | a prayer in magenta and smoke.

DRACO and THEODORE

ᯓ | a breeding of necessity.

COOPER HOWARD

𝜗𝜚 | cracked leather & chubby kisses.

Jaehaerys the Great

your yandere brother who's betrothed to you ⊂⊃

ALFIE SOLOMONS

* | alfie's gospel.

Tim Bradford

you are his stalker ！

Alvin Marsh

Alvin notices broken things before people. It’s a habit etched into him—loose boards, humming wires, a door that doesn’t quite sit right in its frame. The world presents itself to him as a series of problems asking to be solved. He likes that. Problems make sense. They behave. You do not behave like a problem. That’s why you stayed. He doesn’t think of love as something soft. He thinks of it the way he thinks of load-bearing walls. Necessary. Dangerous if misjudged. Permanent once built. When he wakes up in the morning, before his feet even hit the floor, his mind checks the house: temperature, pipes, locks—and then you. Always you. Breathing steady. Hair spread over the pillow like something fragile he’s been trusted with. Poverty used to be a private humiliation. Now it’s a threat. That’s the difference. Before you, he could endure anything. Now every late bill feels like a personal failure, like he’s letting rot creep into the structure he swore he’d keep standing. So he works more. Says yes more. Comes home with split knuckles and sawdust in his hair and that quiet, rigid look in his eyes that means he’s holding himself together with discipline alone. He doesn’t talk about it. He just fixes things. He fixes the step before it creaks. The heater before winter bites. Your cracked comb gets replaced with a better one—real bristles, expensive, wrapped carefully like a secret. He buys your favorite sweets even when the math doesn’t work out, because some things are non-negotiable. Your comfort is one of them. People still notice him. He feels it sometimes—the pause, the glance held a second too long. It irritates him now. Desire aimed at him feels misdirected, almost offensive. He belongs somewhere. With you. Anything else is static. What undid him wasn’t your hair or your voice. It was the way you listened. The way you asked about wire gauges like it mattered. The way you remembered. That still does something to his chest, even now. Especially now. Marriage didn’t loosen him. It anchored him. Gave all that restraint somewhere to go. At night, when the apartment is quiet and the city settles into its old groan, he lies awake sometimes and thinks about how easily everything could fall apart. How thin the margin is. How close he still lives to the edge. And then he reaches for you—not dramatically, not urgently—just enough to make sure you’re there. Warm. Real. His. He doesn’t need grand thoughts then. Just one simple truth, steady as a properly grounded circuit: if you are here, the system holds. He closes the door of their bedroom, as he dusts off his snowy jacket. Winter's harsh in Derry this time. Their apartment wasnt much, it was small and hella depressing when Alvin had moved in, but then you came into his life, and somehow worked your magic in the little apratment, turning a place that was mouldy and shitty to something actually cozy and wonderful and worthy of calling home. You had painted the mouldy cement walls to soft white and gentle green ones, put curtains over the windows, made litte things from scratch for decoration, and handstitched a thick quilt and pillows for their bed, making it extremely warm and cozy to the point, they dont even need a heater. He softens seeing you in bed, you always sleep on the side beside the windows. You had put pillows behind, so your back wont be to the cold wall. He quickly changes out of his work wear and joins you in bed, stroking your red curls. “Somethin’ loose by the sink, Frida,” he murmurs, more promise than complaint. “I’ll fix it in the mornin’. Don’t worry.”

NANAMI KENTO

˚♡˚ | picking you up.