#i wish i never knew how it felt to love in the first place

[anticipatedexhale]

Can you do the arcane characters with a s/o who is obsessed with their looks and how they’re perceived to others?

Hellooo <3 ofc I can!!

Just a disclaimer u are absolutely gorgeous and wonderful just the way you are! Inside and out! Don't let fake standards and false words put by society get to you please, love yourself just the way u are because although it's the hardest type of love to achieve it's also the most fulfilling<33

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Wish I could be like you, but I’m not that cool.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧୨୧

♡ ◞ includes: caitlyn, ekko, jayce, jinx, mel, viktor, vi, sevika

☆ ◞ summary: when you care too much it starts to backfire on you, when you think you lost everything they are right beside you.

△ ◞ warnings: gn! reader, tons of bad talk about ones body and self, insecurities that may be triggering you some so please be careful while reading.

Jayce Talis.

Jayce had always been confident—he knew who he was, what he stood for, and never really cared much about what others thought of him. So when he started noticing how much you worried about your looks and how people perceived you, it caught him off guard.

At first, he thought it was just normal self-care. Everyone liked to look good, right? But then he started picking up on the little things.

The way you’d constantly check your reflection in any shiny surface you passed. The way you’d subtly adjust your outfit over and over, as if trying to perfect it. How you’d bite your lip and glance around nervously when someone so much as whispered near you, convinced it was about you.

And when you two were out together? Forget about it. You agonized over every detail—your hair, your posture, your expressions. Always making sure you were just right.

Jayce hated seeing you stress over it.

One evening, you were getting ready for an event, adjusting your outfit for what felt like the fiftieth time, inspecting yourself in the mirror with a deep frown.

"Does this look okay?" you asked for the third time in ten minutes. "Maybe I should change. Do you think people will—"

Jayce sighed and gently grabbed your hands, pulling you away from the mirror.

“Babe,” he said softly, his brows furrowed in concern. “Why does it matter so much what other people think?”

You hesitated, looking down. “I just… I don’t want to embarrass you. Or myself. People talk, Jayce.”

His expression softened. “I don’t give a damn what people say. And you shouldn’t either.”

You sighed, but he wasn’t done. He cupped your face, tilting it up so you had to look at him.

“You’re already perfect,” he murmured. “I don’t care what you’re wearing, how your hair looks, or what people think. They don’t see what I see.”

You swallowed, throat tight. “…And what do you see?”

His lips quirked into a small smile. “Someone incredible. Someone who makes me laugh, who makes me proud every damn day. Someone I’d still be crazy about even if you walked into that party wearing mismatched shoes and a potato sack.”

You let out a startled laugh, rolling your eyes. “A potato sack?”

He grinned, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Yep. You’d still be the best-looking person in the room.”

You sighed, leaning into his touch. “…You really don’t care?”

“Not one bit,” he promised. “I just want you to be happy. Not stressing over what a bunch of nobodies think.”

His words hit deep. And for the first time in a long time, you actually believed them.

Maybe—just maybe—you didn’t need everyone else’s approval.

Maybe Jayce’s was enough.

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Mel Medarda.

Mel had always been surrounded by high society, where appearances were more than just about beauty—they were about power, influence, and command. She’d been taught from a young age how to control the room with a well-placed smile, a confident stance, and the right attire. But while she had mastered the art of fitting into the expectations of others, she’d never let them control her.

When she first noticed your obsession with your appearance—how you would fret over the smallest detail, constantly worry about what others thought, and always seek validation from the people around you—she didn’t rush to correct you. Instead, she observed, trying to understand why it mattered so much to you.

One evening, you were preparing for another event, this time a gala held by Piltover’s elite. You stood in front of the mirror, your eyes darting between your reflection and the wardrobe full of options, your fingers pulling at your hair, your expression one of deep dissatisfaction.

“Mel,” you said, voice tinged with frustration. “I don’t think I’m ready for this. I’m just not—”

She stepped into the room with the effortless grace she was known for, her gaze soft yet intense as she approached you. “You’re just not what?” she asked, her voice calm but laced with concern.

“I don’t know… I feel like I don’t belong here,” you confessed, your hands wringing together. “I keep thinking about what people will say when they see me. What if they don’t think I’m… enough?”

Mel’s brow furrowed as she gently placed her hands on your shoulders, turning you to face her fully. “Let me ask you something,” she began, her tone serious but tender. “Why do you care so much about what they think?”

You looked down, not quite able to meet her eyes. “Because if I don’t look a certain way, if I’m not perfect, I feel like I won’t matter.”

Mel took a deep breath, stepping closer to you, her hands gently lifting your chin so you had no choice but to look at her. Her gaze softened as she studied you for a moment, her fingers brushing the side of your face.

“Sweetheart,” she began, her voice quiet but steady. “You are already more than enough. I’ve seen you, not just with your looks, but with your heart, your intelligence, your strength.” She smiled softly. “You think people are only judging you based on how you look, but the truth is, they want to see you. They want to know you—the person who carries themselves with such grace and confidence, the one who makes them wonder how they missed such brilliance.”

You felt a lump form in your throat as her words sank in.

“I’ve spent so much of my life trying to fit into others' expectations. To be what people wanted me to be,” Mel continued, her eyes locking with yours, unwavering. “But I realized that I will never be happy that way. And neither will you. So stop letting your worth be defined by others. You have everything you need inside of you already.”

You blinked, the warmth of her words washing over you. “But… I still feel like I’m not enough sometimes.”

Mel gently cupped your face, leaning in until her forehead rested against yours. “Then let me remind you every day how much you mean to me. You’re perfect just as you are.”

You swallowed, a smile tugging at your lips. “I think I’m starting to believe you.”

With a soft chuckle, Mel pulled back slightly. “Good. Now let’s go out there, and when they look at you, let them see the amazing person I see.”

And as she helped you get dressed, there was a quiet understanding between you two. Mel never pressured you to be anyone else, but she also knew how to help you realize that you had more power than you gave yourself credit for.

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Viktor.

Viktor’s perspective on beauty had always been one of deep pragmatism. His entire life had been about improving, evolving, and focusing on the mind’s capacity to achieve, while the world outside often seemed obsessed with superficial qualities. He’d never cared much for what others thought of him or how he looked. But when it came to you, it was different.

He’d noticed, more and more, how often you seemed preoccupied with your appearance. You would spend hours before a mirror, adjusting your clothes or making sure every strand of hair was in place, always worried about what others might think. Sometimes, even after all the effort, there was a quiet dissatisfaction in your expression, and it made him wonder how much you truly believed in yourself.

One evening, after a long day of work, Viktor arrived home to find you sitting on the couch, still in your outfit from earlier. Your gaze was fixed on your phone screen, scrolling through images of other people’s lives, comparing your appearance to theirs. Your posture was tense, your brows furrowed in frustration.

Viktor quietly approached, his voice soft yet steady as he spoke your name. “You’re still awake? What’s going on, love?”

You glanced up, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Just thinking. About how everyone seems to have it all figured out. How they look perfect, and I’m… well, I don’t know.” You trailed off, your gaze dropping back to your phone.

Viktor, noticing the sharp contrast between your usual confident self and the person sitting before him, knelt beside the couch, taking your hand gently in his. His tone was patient, understanding, but there was a certain firmness that made you look up at him.

“Your worth has never been determined by someone else’s perception of you,” he said, his voice quiet but intense. “You’ve spent so much time trying to please others, trying to fit a mold you never asked for. But I need you to understand something, love…”

You looked at him, unsure, waiting for him to continue.

“You are far more than just the sum of your physical appearance or the validation of others,” Viktor continued, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You are a person of substance, of intellect, of heart. And that’s what I fell in love with. Not the way you look, but who you are.”

You swallowed, feeling a lump in your throat. Viktor’s gaze softened as he reached for your hand, gently lifting it to his lips. “And you don’t need to change for anyone. Not for me, not for anyone.”

There was silence between you, broken only by the soft hum of the city outside. His words settled in your chest, easing the tension that had built up over the past few hours.

“I just feel like I’m constantly chasing something I can never achieve,” you admitted quietly. “Trying to be perfect, trying to be what everyone else expects.”

Viktor’s eyes darkened with concern, but he smiled gently. “What if I told you that the most perfect version of yourself is already here? Right now, in this moment? That you are more than enough, as you are?”

His words were simple, but they carried the weight of years of wisdom, of someone who had seen the world through a lens of endless improvement. Slowly, you found yourself leaning into him, feeling the comfort of his embrace and the security of his steady presence.

“I’m still learning, Viktor,” you whispered, your head resting against his chest. “Learning to accept myself.”

“And I’ll be here,” he murmured, his voice warm and unwavering. “Every step of the way. To remind you that you’re perfect, not because of how you look, but because of who you are.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the weight of his words sink deep into your soul. In that moment, with Viktor by your side, you realized that the person you needed to please the most was yourself. And with him, you finally understood that your worth was never tied to anyone’s expectations—but rather, to the person you were, inside and out.

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Caitlyn kiramman.

Caitlyn was never one to place much value on appearances. Sure, she knew the importance of looking presentable, especially in her position, but she also understood that true beauty went beyond what the eye could see. For Caitlyn, what truly mattered were values, intellect, and integrity. But when she noticed you often fretting over your appearance, constantly adjusting your outfit, and seeking validation from others, it tugged at her heart. She could tell you weren’t feeling your best, but didn’t know how to reach you—until one quiet evening.

After a long day at work, Caitlyn came home to find you in front of the mirror once again, changing clothes, adjusting your makeup, and constantly re-evaluating your reflection. She leaned in the doorway for a moment, watching you with a concerned expression.

You didn’t even notice her at first, your mind lost in the whirlwind of doubts that always seemed to surface when you weren’t in her company. “I don’t know, Cait. What if I’m not enough?” you muttered under your breath, pulling at the collar of your shirt as if it could make you feel better. “What if they don’t think I’m… beautiful enough?”

Caitlyn stepped into the room quietly, her voice gentle but firm. “Why do you think that?”

You jumped, not expecting her to be standing so close. “Oh… I didn’t hear you.” You gave a weak smile, clearly still upset.

“Babe, what’s going on? You’ve been like this for a while now,” she said softly, her eyes meeting yours. She stepped closer and reached for your hand, her touch warm and reassuring. “What are you looking for?”

You hesitated, glancing at your reflection before turning to face her. “I just… I feel like people judge me all the time. What if they don’t like how I look? What if I’m too much for them? Or not enough?”

Caitlyn’s expression softened with a mix of empathy and concern. She could feel how deeply you were struggling, and though she didn’t share your worries about appearances, she understood the burden of those feelings. She gently cupped your face in her hands, tilting your chin so your eyes met hers.

“Look at me,” she said, her voice low but confident. “You are enough. Right now, in this moment, you’re more than enough.”

You blinked, her words striking a chord deep inside. “But what if people think I’m…”

She cut you off gently. “You are beautiful, but more than that, you’re incredible. You make a difference. You’re kind, intelligent, and strong. No outfit or hairstyle is going to change that.”

You felt a lump form in your throat as her words began to sink in. “But what if I’m not… what people expect?”

Caitlyn smiled, her hands gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You don’t need to live up to anyone’s expectations but your own. I fell in love with you for who you are, not because of how you look. And I’ve never been more proud of you than I am right now, just by being yourself.”

Her sincerity made your heart swell, and despite your lingering doubts, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. Caitlyn didn’t care about the opinions of others; she cared about you—and that was all that mattered.

“I guess I’ve been so focused on trying to be perfect that I forgot how to just be me,” you admitted softly.

Caitlyn chuckled, her thumbs gently rubbing circles on your cheeks. “And I’ll remind you every day that you don’t need to be perfect for anyone. You’re perfect for me.”

You leaned into her touch, a sense of comfort settling in your chest. “Thank you, Cait. I really needed to hear that.”

She smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Anytime. And just so you know, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, inside and out. You don’t have to change a thing.”

In that moment, you realized that your true beauty didn’t lie in how others saw you, but in how Caitlyn saw you—and how you saw yourself when you let go of the expectations that had once held you back.

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Vi.

Vi had always been more about strength and character than appearances. She had a no-nonsense attitude and didn’t care much for superficial things. Whether in a fight or just hanging out, she preferred to focus on what truly mattered—what was inside a person. So when she noticed you obsessing over how you looked, constantly tweaking your outfit or worrying about how others perceived you, it threw her off. She couldn’t quite understand why you’d feel like you weren’t enough when to her, you were already perfect just as you were.

One evening, after a particularly tough day, Vi returned home to find you sitting on the couch, eyes glued to your phone, flipping through social media. You’d been quiet all evening, and she could tell something was bothering you. As she approached, she noticed you adjusting your outfit for the fourth time, pulling at the hem of your shirt, checking the mirror again.

Vi raised an eyebrow, concern flashing across her face. “You good, babe? You seem a little… distracted.”

You didn’t look up, still preoccupied with your reflection. “I don’t know. I just feel like people always judge me. I mean, look at them, Vi,” you said, showing her your phone screen, where a bunch of influencers and well-dressed people filled the screen. “Why can’t I look like that? I don’t know… I just feel like I’m never enough, no matter what I do.”

Vi looked at the screen for a moment before setting it down gently, stepping closer to you. “Hey, look at me,” she said, her voice a little more serious now. “I don’t get it. You’ve got all this beauty inside and out, and you’re worried about some picture on a screen?”

You gave a little laugh, but it was hollow. “It’s not just a picture, Vi. People always notice what I wear, what I look like. I feel like I’m always trying to fit into something I’m not.”

Vi tilted your chin up, meeting your eyes with that intense, protective gaze of hers. “You don’t need to fit into any mold, babe. You’re not some... trend to follow. You’re you. And trust me, that’s more than enough.”

You looked away, unsure. "But people don't see that. They only care about the surface."

Vi sighed, her expression softening as she sat next to you. She took your hand in hers, her grip strong but comforting. "You know what I see when I look at you? I see a person who's been through a lot, someone who doesn't need to put on a mask to be loved. Someone who's real. And that's what makes you so amazing. I don't give a damn about what anyone else thinks. And I know you don't need to change for anyone."

You let out a breath, trying to hold back the feelings bubbling up inside. Vi, with her blunt honesty and genuine affection, had a way of cutting through the noise, and for the first time in a while, you felt like maybe you weren’t as lost as you thought.

Vi leaned in, resting her forehead against yours. “You know I love you for exactly who you are, right? And if you’re worried about how others see you, then maybe you should let them see the real you. Because that’s who I love. The real you. Not some version of you trying to impress everyone else.”

You could feel her words sinking in, easing the pressure you hadn’t even realized had been building. You felt a sense of calm begin to wash over you as Vi’s embrace tightened, holding you close.

"I know I'm tough and rough around the edges," she whispered, a playful smile tugging at her lips, "but you don’t need to be anything other than what makes you happy. And if that means wearing your favorite old shirt or going makeup-free, I’m still gonna think you’re the best thing in the world."

A small laugh escaped your lips, and you found yourself relaxing into her warmth. “Thanks, Vi. I needed that.”

Vi grinned, kissing the top of your head. “Anytime, babe. Just remember: you’re perfect to me, just the way you are.”

In that moment, surrounded by her love and honesty, you realized that the only opinion that truly mattered was the one that came from within—and with Vi, you were finally starting to believe it.

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Jinx.

Jinx was many things—chaotic, unpredictable, and loud—but when it came to you, she was surprisingly sensitive. Her world had always been in a constant state of madness, but there was something calming about being with you. You were her rock, her one constant in the storm. That’s why it bothered her so much when she noticed you obsessing over how you looked, always fidgeting with your clothes, your hair, or your makeup, constantly worried about how others saw you.

One evening, after a particularly wild day of mayhem (courtesy of Jinx, of course), you sat on the couch, staring at your phone screen. Your brows were furrowed, your thumb scrolling through social media, comparing yourself to others. Jinx had been watching you for a while, and it was starting to get under her skin.

"Hey, you!" she suddenly called out, practically throwing herself onto the couch next to you, her usual enthusiasm filling the room.

You jumped a little, distracted. “Oh, hey, Jinx. What’s up?” You didn’t look up from your phone, still fixated on the images that seemed to be making you feel worse with every swipe.

Jinx tilted her head, studying your face closely. Her blue hair bounced as she moved, and her expression softened just a little. “You’ve been like this for a while now,” she said, a hint of concern lacing her voice. “Why do you keep looking at that stuff?”

You sighed, showing her your phone. “I don’t know. I just feel like I’m always trying to keep up with everyone else, you know? They always look so… perfect. I feel like I don’t measure up.”

Jinx blinked, her usual manic energy quieting for a moment as she processed your words. "What do you mean, perfect?" she asked, her voice almost childlike in its confusion. “Perfect’s boring, though! I mean, sure, it’s fun to be perfectly insane, but... you’re way cooler than perfect! Who needs to be that?”

You looked at her, a little unsure. “I just… I don’t know, Jinx. I feel like I’m always trying to be someone I’m not, trying to look like everyone else. But nothing ever feels good enough.”

Jinx leaned back dramatically, her arms spread wide. “You wanna know something? I don’t think you need to look like anyone else, ever!” she said, her eyes wide and full of her usual chaotic energy. “You’re already amazing the way you are, and I don’t get why you keep looking at that stuff. I mean, look at me—no one can look like me and that’s what makes me awesome! So you just need to be you, okay?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at her randomness, even as a weight still sat heavy in your chest. Jinx smiled brightly, completely oblivious to the way her words were beginning to work their magic. “I know you think you gotta be something you’re not, but I love you just as you are. You’re like… the best thing ever! You don’t need to change anything to impress anyone, especially not me.”

She leaned forward then, her hands clasping yours tightly. Her wild eyes softened as she looked at you with an intensity that was rare for her. “I love you, okay? You—with all the stuff you think isn’t perfect. I don’t need a perfect you. I need you, the one with all the quirks and the weird little things that make you you!”

You blinked, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at her words. Jinx had a way of making things seem so much lighter, her chaotic nature always breaking through the heaviness of your own doubts. Her laugh was like music, and the more she spoke, the more you felt the pressure you had been putting on yourself start to lift.

“Jinx,” you whispered, squeezing her hand. “Thank you. I think I just needed to hear it from you. I’ve been so focused on trying to change, I forgot what made me… me.”

“Exactly!” Jinx exclaimed, throwing her hands up like she had just made the greatest revelation in the world. “Just be you, and if anyone else doesn’t get it, then they’re the ones who are messed up! You’re freaking awesome, and I’m lucky to have you.”

She pulled you into a tight hug, her arms wrapping around you with surprising gentleness. "Don’t ever try to be anything other than you again, okay?" she whispered into your ear. “I think you’re perfect just the way you are.”

You rested your head on her shoulder, feeling a sense of comfort in the chaos that only Jinx could provide. With her by your side, maybe, just maybe, you could start to let go of the expectations that others had placed on you—and just embrace the person you were.

And with that, Jinx’s chaotic energy became the balm you didn’t know you needed, reminding you that in this world of uncertainty, the most important thing was being true to yourself.

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Ekko.

Ekko had always been a little different. The way he saw the world wasn’t about appearances or surface-level stuff—it was about people, their hearts, and their actions. It wasn’t lost on him that you seemed to care a lot about how others perceived you, constantly stressing over what to wear, how to look, or whether you were keeping up with the trends. At first, he didn’t really understand it. Why would you care what other people thought when you were already so incredible in his eyes?

One evening, after working on his latest invention in the workshop, Ekko was looking forward to spending some quiet time with you. He’d been busy with the repairs and inventions for the underground, but when he finally entered the room, he immediately noticed something different about you. You were sitting on the couch, flipping through a magazine, occasionally staring at the mirror, then back at the pages. The quiet tension in the air told him something was off.

He walked up to you and gently sat down next to you. "You okay?" he asked, his voice softer than usual. "You seem… distracted."

You looked up, surprised to see him. You hadn’t realized you were being so obvious about your self-doubt. "Oh, I’m fine," you lied, trying to smile. "Just… you know, trying to figure out what to wear tomorrow. Something that’ll make me look good enough for the crowd, y’know?"

Ekko frowned slightly. He could see the uncertainty in your eyes, the way your fingers were nervously flipping through pages. He didn’t need to be a genius to see that something was bothering you.

He leaned back against the couch, giving you a moment to breathe before speaking up again. “What crowd? I thought you were more about being yourself, not some image you’ve got to keep up with.”

You shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah, well… sometimes it’s hard. I mean, look at everyone else, Ekko. They’re all perfect—well-dressed, confident, always looking like they’ve got it all figured out. I just… I don’t know. I want to feel good about myself, but it feels like I’m always falling short.”

Ekko let out a small sigh. He had seen you struggle with this before, but hearing it out loud always tugged at his heart. He knew what it was like to feel like you didn’t measure up, especially in a world that made it easy to compare yourself to everyone around you. But to him, you were already more than enough.

"You don’t need to be like anyone else, you know that, right?" Ekko said, his voice calm yet serious. "I get it, everyone around here seems to care about appearances or ‘keeping up with the Joneses,’ but that’s not what makes someone special. You’re already incredible. The real you—not some idealized version of yourself—is what I love."

He took your hand, gently guiding you to face him. "It’s not about looking like someone else. It’s about being you. And when you’re you, that’s when you shine the brightest. You’re unique, and that’s what makes you stand out. Not some perfect look or what other people think."

You felt a lump form in your throat, his words piercing through the insecurities that had been building inside. Ekko was always so patient with you, always grounding you when the chaos of the world started to feel too heavy. His belief in you, in who you were as a person, was unwavering.

"Ekko, I’m just so used to trying to fit in," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "It feels like everyone expects me to be perfect, to look a certain way."

Ekko shook his head, his hand moving to brush your hair behind your ear, his touch gentle and tender. "You don’t need to fit into anyone’s box. You fit into mine, and that’s all that matters. You’ve got something they don’t—your heart, your mind, your creativity. You’ve always had it, and I see it every single day."

He stood up, giving you a playful grin. "You know what’s really cool about you? You can pull off anything—whether it’s a fancy outfit or a worn-out hoodie. You make it look good because it’s you. And honestly, that’s way more impressive than anything I’ve ever seen."

You couldn’t help but laugh, a little of the weight lifting off your shoulders as you finally met his eyes. “You really think that?”

Ekko nodded, his eyes full of sincerity. "More than anything. I’m proud of you, just the way you are. You don’t need anyone’s approval, especially not when you’ve already got mine."

You stood up to face him, feeling the warmth of his words sink in. There was no need to change for the world. You had Ekko, and that was more than enough to make you feel seen and loved.

"I love you, you know that?" you whispered.

Ekko grinned, his eyes lighting up as he pulled you into a hug. "I love you too, more than you’ll ever know."

In his arms, you felt safe—safe to be yourself, flaws and all. Maybe it wasn’t about perfection after all. Maybe it was about finding the people who truly saw you, the real you, and loving you for exactly who you were.

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Sevika.

The quiet buzz of the dimly lit workshop was disrupted by a small, sudden sigh. Sevika paused, her fingers lightly gripping the wrench she was working with as she looked over at you. You were at the far corner of the room, your attention focused on the full-length mirror. Your gaze was distant, eyes scanning every inch of yourself, your expression more tense than usual.

She could see the way your shoulders tensed, the slight frown on your lips, and she knew that look all too well. It was the look of someone caught in the trap of self-doubt, obsessing over things that didn't truly matter. Sevika, who always carried herself with quiet confidence, couldn't help but notice how much you seemed to care about things that didn’t define your worth—things like appearance, status, and the opinions of others.

Without saying a word, Sevika set her tools down and walked toward you, her large frame cutting through the space with the same assured steps she always had. There was something about your current mood that tugged at her, an instinct to take care of you when she saw you struggling.

She came up behind you, leaning her back against the wall and crossing her arms, just watching. There was no rush to intervene. Sevika had learned that sometimes, you needed time to process things on your own before anyone could help.

After a moment, you spoke without turning to face her. "Do you think they’d like me more if I looked different? I mean… everyone seems to have something special about them. What if I’m just… not good enough?"

The words hung in the air, fragile and raw. Sevika stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. "Hey," she said, her hand resting on your shoulder, urging you to meet her eyes. "You’re not ‘just’ anything. And you’re not here to be ‘liked’ by anyone else but yourself."

You swallowed, still unable to fully meet her gaze. "I don’t know, Sevika. I just—sometimes it feels like no matter what I do, I can’t live up to… to what they expect, to what everyone else has. I don’t know how to be comfortable with myself."

Sevika’s eyes softened, her hand gently turning your chin so that you finally faced her. "You don’t need to worry about them. You don’t need to worry about being perfect, because there’s no such thing. No one is perfect—not even the ones who pretend they are."

Her voice was steady, filled with that unwavering confidence that made her so impossible to ignore. "You’re one of the strongest people I know, and that’s not something that comes from looking a certain way. It comes from what you’ve been through, how you keep going despite everything. That’s what I admire about you. Not how you look, but the person you are."

Your breath caught, the frustration in your chest softening with her words. For a moment, you let yourself believe her, feeling the weight of your insecurities ease just a little.

"I think you forget sometimes that people who truly care about you… the ones who matter, don’t give a damn about your looks," Sevika continued, her thumb lightly tracing your cheek, her touch gentle yet powerful. "You think I’m here because you’ve got the perfect image? Nah. I’m here because you’ve got heart. You’ve always had it."

A rare, soft smile tugged at her lips as she leaned in slightly, her voice lowering to a near whisper. "And you think I’d let someone like you get away with being anything less than amazing?"

You chuckled softly, the tension melting away at the sincerity in her words. Sevika’s tough exterior had always been there, but in moments like this, she allowed her softer side to show, especially when it came to you. You could see in her eyes that she didn’t just mean what she was saying—she believed it wholeheartedly.

"Sevika, I—"

She cut you off, her finger lightly tapping your lips. "No more self-doubt. No more comparisons. You’re incredible. Just as you are."

For once, the mirror didn’t seem so important. It wasn’t about how others saw you, but how you saw yourself through her eyes. Sevika may not always say a lot, but in moments like this, her actions spoke volumes. You let yourself lean into her touch, the assurance in her presence becoming your anchor.

She leaned in close, her voice softer now, just for you. "Now, let’s forget about everyone else for a while, yeah? Tonight’s about you, about us. You don’t need to impress anyone but yourself."

And as you let her embrace you, a weight lifted, one you hadn’t even realized you were carrying.

--------------------------------------------------

Authors note: I really do apologize if this isn't to ur liking my darling or it feels repetitive I just really could not come up with different scenarios dear God I was about to crash out..

[arkhamsbrat]

you were robbed of summer, i was robbed of you

jason todd x civilian reader

when jason left, your light did too. six years of your life spent attached at jason’s hip crumbled around you with one knock on your door, and a small shoe box of old journals and trinkets was placed in your hands. they told you the funeral was that next week. you barely had time to register that they told you how he really died. asked you to keep it to yourself.

that boy you spent your childhood with, running through dark allies and making the best of your shitty little lives was gone. the boy who read to you, sat in the gamestop and played the trial of mario kart with you til you got kicked out, gone. you didn’t even get to say goodbye. they didn’t even let you see him before they buried him.

at least the bastard pitied you was kind enough to let you visit Mr. Wayne’s graveyard. you left letters, flowers, anything that reminded you of him. there were too many times that Mr. Wayne found you passed out against his tombstone. you’d wake up back in your own home, unsure of how you got there. it didn’t matter.

the next four years were miserable, barely scraping by without a few trips to the hospital from your constant exhaustion. you made it, at least. got a little cat to give you something to motivate you. her name was robin. a little stray you found on your fire escape. jason would’ve loved her.

you could see it when you closed your eyes. jason sitting on your couch, crooked smile wide as robin climbed all over him. how he’d whisper to her when he thought you couldnt hear. you saw him everywhere, doing everything. because that’s where he should be.

heroes came back all the time. the flashes, superboy, impulse, even batman. what did you need to do to bring him back? what did you have to give up? did you need to tear yourself in two all over again just to get your best friend back?

these thoughts played over and over, every single day that passed. it got to the point where you could see little silver hairs sprouting out of your head after april passed. they got thicker in august, when you kneeled by the edge of your toilet and sobbed so hard you got sick. he should be 21 now, piss drunk on your ragged old couch and cackling at how you stumbled around.

you felt pathetic when robin came and nuzzled at your leg, meowing for your attention. you ran your fingers through her fur before pulling her into your arms, feeling her purr. “how dumb do i look right now, jayce?” you muttered to yourself, bitterly. “makin’ you real proud, i bet.”

you didn’t hear the boots hit against your fire escape, nor did you see red hood slink down to peer through your smudged windows. it’d become a habit of his, though he was disappointed you weren’t as aware of your surroundings as you should’ve been.

jason watched. almost nightly. thats more than what he thought he deserved. nearly threw up in his mask the first time he saw your grey streak, stress induced.

the two of you were strangers now, he reminded himself consistently. the boy you knew was long gone, and he strongly doubted you would ever accept any of his changes. he’d hoped you’d changed for the worst. maybe he’d find something he could move on from. something to hate you for. maybe he could throw away the letters he wrote to you in hopes that one day he could come to you. in hopes he’d be able to come home.

thats what he’d always found in you. he craved it- the simplicity of you. hell, he’d even take you yelling at him for being stupid. for leaving you. he’d find a home in that, as long as it was your voice raising at him. before he came back, he was afraid you’d forgotten. he’d hoped you didn’t, in a fucked up way he hoped you’d hurt the same way he did. that you’d never forgotten him.

he regretted those wishes the minute he saw you crying over a cheap cookie with a candle stabbed through, drunk off your own ass. the date didn’t even cross his mind when he landed, only looking to check in on you. he had to fight back his own tears when it dawned on him. even now, you cared about his birthday?

if he wasn’t so stupid you wouldn’t be alone. if he didn’t care so much, if he didn’t go to-

you looked up before he got to finish any of his thoughts, letting out a shrill scream when you saw the masked vigilante on your fire escape. if he wasn’t so upset he would’ve laughed at how fast you grabbed your cat and raced to your bedroom, nearly tripping against the toys strewn about the floor. he’d wanted to mock you about how you spoiled that cat. jason wanted to be with you again. to be normal with you.

he’d never see you again if he could just tell you that you’re what got him through it all. it’s always been you, always will be. thirty minutes pass while he contemplated if he deserves to be selfish with you before he just said fuck it. he slid your window open and slipped through, searching for your room.

he’d get on you about actually locking the damn window later.

jason couldn’t find it in him to care about hiding that it was him. it was you he was telling. no matter the fear blooming from deep withinin him, he knew you’d see him. trust him. love him, if he let you.

the red hood mask got thrown onto your couch while he scrambled to your door. he knew you could hear his footsteps, probably scared shitless. how was he supposed to start this?

“been a long time…” he spoke, barely able to mask the shake in his voice. “i didn’t… i didn’t think you’d still think about me, honestly. i hoped you did, but… everyone else seemed to replace me. shoulda known you never would’ve…” jason couldn’t feel how his whole body shook as he kept speaking, barely remembering when he slid down to the floor.

“thought about you every god damn day, y’know? always wanted to tell you that. wondered if you went to school. if you were still damn awful at chemistry… did’jya start workin’ at that little cafe? said y’would once you turned sixteen…” he rambled on, tears spilling down his scarred cheeks. “i know y’don’t know me anymore… y’lost your jason… but i probably lost my you too… y’look miserable. that my fault too?”

jason heard the floorboards creak from the other side of the door. a quiet shuffling, alongside a very upset meow as a cats paw swiped under the door, catching at his jeans. he laughed quietly, setting his hand down so the cat could paw at him instead of the jeans that he just stole off some douchebag that tried to mug a mother thrifted. he felt his whole body tense when you finally spoke. “her name’s robin… thought jason would’ve liked that. none’a this is his fault.”

“i do.” he pressed his head against the door, seconds away from begging you to open it. a cat… you named your scraggly ass cat after him. you sounded exhausted- if he could snap his fingers and take it all from you, he’d do it in a heartbeat. “jason’s dead… they said he got killed by…” he let out a sharp sigh. “i wanted to come back to you, i swear. it’s a real long story.”

he heard more shuffling behind the door, and then a click. your head peeked through the crack. “…i never make plans on your birthday…i have time?” for the first time in a long time, jason felt a small smile pull at the corner of his mouth. “are you gonna remember any of this in the morning, drunkard?”

his grin widens when you shrug, teary eyes boring into his. “then i get to see you for the first time all over again. jackass.”

[kkoga]

DO IT. DO THE HURT NO COMFORT. PLPSLSPLSPSLSPLS I LOVE ANGST!!!

-🎧

A/N : your wish is my command....

RAINY NIGHTS, sophia laforteza x fem!reader

Warning ! Hurt no comfort, toxic relationship, mentions of sensitive topics, not proofread

Disclaimer ! Everything written here is pure fiction. Every person is not a real portrayal of themselves.

Now playing ! Cologne by beabadobee

WC — I dont knkw bruh i wrote this and its 3 fucking am im not mentally sane lawl phones also 7 percent.

Synopsis ! After Sophia Laforteza fucks up multiple times, Y/n decides she's had enough. Time and time the girl had waited, but much to her dismay, all Sophia had done, was disappoint her.

Y/n shamefully exits the restaurant, feeling dozens of eyes on her. The girl had been waiting for her girlfriend, Sophia Laforteza, to show up to a date they've been planning for weeks now.

The first hour wasn't so bad. Maybe she had gotten stuck in traffic, or maybe she would be just a little late. The second hour was worse. At that point, waiters and waitresses had started asking her where her partner was. And what Y/n hated the most, was the fact that she had no answer to their questions.

Now here she was, after the fourth hour of waiting. It was currently 12 am, and much to the girl's luck, it had just started raining.

The girl could only sigh.

"What a great marvellous day! Not only does Sophia leave me waiting for our date, it starts raining right after I get kicked out! Absolutely hilarious!" Y/n mumbes to herself, tears beginning to well up.

"Maybe she just forgot. I mean, she's busy afterall..." The girl tried her best to convince herself that this was going to be a one time thing.

She was wrong.

Y/n bites her inner lip. It has been 2 hours since their designated sleepover. It's been weeks since Sophia had gone over to her house. So they'd been planning for a movie night. And tonight was that night. So why exactly has Sophia been ignoring her calls?

Y/n presses the call button once more, but to no avail, she was met with Sophia's voice mail for the nth time.

The popcorn was starting to get cold, and the ice cream was starting to melt. Y/n sighs. It's been two hours. Maybe she got caught up in an emergency schedule?

"Couldn't she just have told me...?" Y/n shakenly whispers to herself. This was the fourth time Sophia had stood her up this month alone.

Y/n begrudgingly placed the ice cream back in the fridge and seals the popcorn in a random container. The sound of rain keeping her grounded.

"It's okay. This will be the last time this happens."

Finally. Sophia had finally shown up to a hang out. Y/n had been waiting for the past month. The girl had greatly missed her girlfriend, and she hoped Sophia felt the same.

"Sophie! Hi!" Y/n ran up to Sophia, and hugged her as tight as she could. Afraid to let go, scared she might lose the one person able to cheer her up with a simple smile.

"Y/n! Baby! Hi, i missed you so much." Sophia hugged the girl back, and for a moment, Y/n thought,

"Finally. We're back to normal. Oh god, how I've missed my girl."

Y/n couldn't help the small but sweet smile that had formed.

It had been an hour since their hang out started, and apparently, Sophia had to go. Y/n felt sad, but knew it was her job, her dream. And Y/n would never get in the way of that.

As Sophia entered her car, Y/n bid goodbye to her girlfriend.

"Bye Sophie, miss you, and i love you." Y/n leans down for a cheek kiss, almost missing the unreadable expression Sophia had on her face.

"Yeah, bye." And with that, Sophia drives off to god knows where.

"No i love you too...? No... maybe she just forgot. It's fine." And suddenly, rain had started pouring. Y/n quickly ran for cover, but couldn't avoid looking like a somewhat wet puppy.

It was infact, not fine. It had been three months since that little mini date, and Sophia hadn't said the words "I love you". Atleast not without Y/n basically telling her to.

What went wrong? What did Y/n ever do? Did she offend Sophia? Did she do anything to form this... this gap between them?

Y/n felt so lost. So... confused. She was so sure she hadn't done anything. At least not anything she could remember. Well, she was going to find out tonight.

The door opens widely, in a swift manner. And in comes Sophia, sick and worried.

"Y/N, BABY, ARE YOU OKAY?? I came as soon as i got the text, I—" The panicked Sophia came in, expecting to see an injured or sick Y/n. But all she had found was Y/n sitting on the chair of one of her counters, with a stoic look on her face.

Sophia's breathe was heavy, like she had ran to get to Y/n's apartment.

"Why are you completely fine? You texted me it was an emergency Y/n, I was busy—!"

"Well, you always are, aren't you?" Y/n looks up to Sophia's eyes, and frustration begins to fill the Filipina.

"Excuse me? You know I'm constantly busy. For fucks sake, I'm an idol! You can't—"

"I know. I know what I signed up for, Laforteza. I know I'd never get in the way of your dreams. You would never even let me." Y/n gets off the stool, and faces her girlfriend.

"So what's your point! What, you call me here because you missed me? I was in a fucking meeting Y/n. With one of HYBE's officials!! Do you know how fucking important that is?" Sophia scratches her head in disbelief, her anger bubbling up faster than it ever has. Y/n sighs defeatedly.

"More important than me?"

Silence filled the apartment. What felt like hours were only a few measly seconds.

"The silence was more than enough, Laforteza. I'm tired. I am so fucking tired of you leaving me hanging. At first, it was a date here, a date there, but nowadays, it's like everything we plan just ends up with me waiting."

"But I'm trying Y/n! I'm trying my best for you, for my members, for my fucking dream. Why can't you just understand that?"

"Then answer this, Laforteza. When was the last time you had told me the words "I love you"? When was the last time you had willingly told me those three words."

Sophia tried to recollect, the Filipina had really tried her best. But the realization had hit her hard.

"Fucking THINK Laforteza. Give me a goddamned answer. When was the last time you had given me a sincere, loving, "I love you"?... ANSWER ME!"

"I... I can't remember...." Sophia had started tearing up. Why couldn't she fucking remember the last time she had said I love you to her own fucking girlfriend?

Y/n let out a laugh. But it wasn't the usual light and hearty laugh Sophia had always heard. This laugh sounded painful. It was like all of Y/n's vocal chords had suddenly forgotten what a laugh had sounded like.

After a few seconds, Y/n's laughing had turned into sobs.

"Do you know how many times I've had to shamefully walk out of a restaurant, or get kicked out? Sophia, everyone looked at me. Their eyes were so full of pity. The waiters and waitresses constantly checked up on me like I was some poor child, left behind by her mother. Countless times, Sophia. I endured it all, thinking it would be the last time."

Y/n's voice had started cracking, and the girl had made a face Sophia had never seen before. One filled with so much sadness, so much sorrow.

"But time and time again, you proved me wrong. Every date you stood up, every "I love you" left unanswered, destroyed me, Sophia."

"Baby... baby I'm so sorry, please—" Sophia tries to move closer to Y/n, but the girl pulls away.

"Don't. Don't ever call me baby ever again. You don't get the fucking right, Sophia."

"I'm so disappointed in you Sophia. I never thought you'd ever treat me this way. Your career may have excused a missing date or two. But seven in a row? Sophia, we've gone on three total dates for the past four month's. And we had planned seventeen. Seven fucking teen Sophia. You stood me up fourteen times, and that's only for the past four months."

"I.. please I'm so—"

"So let's end this."

"...what?"

This felt so surreal. Y/n had just asked her if they could end it. Sophia had felt her whole world crumble. She caused this? Has she really broken down the one person who had supported her through everything?

"No.. no, no we aren't. Please, just give me a chance to—"

"No, Laforteza. Get out. We're over."

Sophia laughs, hoping this was some sort of wicked sick dream.

"We aren't over Y/n. Please, I just—"

"We've been over for the past seven months, Laforteza. What we've had for those last few months was just me trying to keep us both on the same page. But a relationship requires two people. We can't keep going if your heart isn't in it, Laforteza."

Sophia couldn't help it. Her tears had burst out like there was no tomorrow. The girl hadn't cried like this for a long, long time.

"But.. but I need you Y/n, please..." At this point, the Filipina had gotten on her knees.

"No, you don't. Hell, you don't even want me. You just think you do. So please, get up and leave, before I say things I don't think I can take back."

"I can't just leave!"

"Yes you can. Leave. For the both of us, Sophie." The mention of her nickname was driving Sophia crazy.

"But I fucking love you Y/n!" .

Y/n looks at Sophia with a tired face.

"Do you really?"

Sophia looks at Y/n. A look of desperation displayed on her pretty face. Y/n hates how she's never going to see that face ever again. Hates how she's never going to kiss that pretty face to sleep ever again. Hates how those soft and comforting arms will never comfort her ever again. Hates how she will never wake up next to the love of her life ever again. Hates how Sophia will never be hers ever again. But she was okay with that. She knew it had to end one way or another. It was better this way.

And so, after more back and forth conversations, Sophia reluctantly leaves. Sophia closes the door, and Y/n locks it right after.

Y/n will never open up her heart for Sophia ever again. And the latter knows that. They were over. They were really over. Neither could believe it. The two fall to their knees, on opposite sides of the door. The sound of heavy rain masking the others cries.

Guess rainy nights were never their thing.

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Seong Gi Hun X Reader: Make believe

A/n: the love i have for this man isn't normal. I need him so bad 😚

Warnings: fluff, age gap, kissing, talks of death, Jung Bae being a cockblocker (slightly), gn reader, pet names (sweetheart), not proofread.

Word count: 1.9K

“I don’t want to die.”

The words slip from your lips before you can stop them. It’s a silly thing to say, a sort of obvious affirmation that didn’t need to be verbalized but ended up making its way out your mouth anyway. You're staring at the ground, knees pressed to your chest. You don’t look up but you can feel him gazing at you from where he sits beside you. 

Gi hun watches you for a moment, not knowing how to respond to your confession. You were the quieter one from the group, often keeping to yourself. Gi hun wanted to tell you it would be alright. He’d been here before, he knew what would happen. Or at least he thought he did. He wasn’t so sure anymore. But he would never tell you that. Not with the way you looked now, your body so tense from fear he was surprised you weren’t shaking next to him. 

“I wanted to go to college. I knew we couldn’t afford it but my mom said it would be ok.”

Gi hun listened as you talked, a small frown gracing his features.

“I could tell things were getting bad when the letters started coming. Mom said it was nothing but I knew better. I started working to help her pay but it wasn’t enough and then she…”

You took a deep breath in, eyes closing as you tried to blink back tears. Gi hun's hand twitched beside him, the need to place a comforting touch on your shoulder was threatening to consume him.

“She got sick and we couldn’t pay the bills. I watched her fade away and there wasn’t anything I could do to help.”

You finally raise your head, looking into the darkness for the first time.

“She did a good job at keeping me in the dark. I only found out how bad the debt was after she passed.”

Memories flooded Gi huns brain. Your words made him remember things he wished he could erase from his mind. 

“I joined so I could pay them back. So I could get my degree.”

You let out a bitter laugh, turning to face Gi hun for the first time since you’d started talking.

“Don’t think that's gonna happen huh?”

Gi hun's hand made its way to your shoulder, his big eyes looking at you with such determination that it almost frightened you. 

“We are going to end the games. And when we get out you’ll go back to college and get your degree. I promise.”

You wanted so badly to believe him. You trusted Gi hun with your life but you weren’t one to believe in miracles. And that's what it seemed like you were wishing for. A miracle. 

Your eyes moved to Gi huns lips before darting back to his eyes. Ever since you’d met him you’d felt a strange pull towards him. You shifted your body slowly, inching yourself closer to the older man. If he was aware of your small movements he didn't show it. It was only when your shoulder brushed against his that he displayed any reaction to the proximity. He gazed at you with a questioning look. You watched his lips open to ask you something but before the words could come out you covered his mouth with yours.

Gi hun was frozen for a moment, he didn’t know how to react. He could feel your lips on his, your warm breath fawning over his cheek but he couldn’t move. He had never expected you to do something like this. You were at least two decades younger than him. He would have never thought you would be attracted to a guy like him.

His lack of reaction made you self conscious. You knew it was a risky move. A stupid move even. But with death looming over your every breath you seemed to stop thinking clearly. You pulled away quickly, desperately trying to put distance between you and the older man.

“Sorry i don’t know where that came from i’ll-”

You moved to get up, your heart beating so loudly it seemed to drown out any other sound. You would go wake one of the others up to keep Gi hun company. You couldn’t trust yourself to not do something stupid again. But before you managed to lift yourself off the ground, Gi huns hand wrapped around your wrist.

“Don’t go.”

Your brows furrowed at his words. You’d expected him to tell you that this was inappropriate. That he was far too old for you. But instead his hand found its way to your cheek, caressing it softly. 

“It’s okay. You don’t have to go.”

Your shoulders relaxed at his words, your body slowly settling back into his previous position. 

“I shouldn’t have kissed you without asking. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. You were caught up in the moment. It’s all the fear this place causes. It makes you not think straight.”

Except that you weren’t not thinking straight. In fact this was the most sure you’d been of yourself for the last two days. 

“Gi hun.”

“Yes?”

“What if I wasn't caught up in the moment? What if i just really wanted to-”

“I’m too old.”

“I don’t care about that.”

“You would. If we weren’t in here, locked in with each other, you wouldn’t have spared me a second glance.”

“That’s not true. You’re very handsome.”

Gi hun couldn’t help but flush at the words.

“Plus, I happen to have a thing for older men.”

You gave him a shy smile and Gi hun couldn’t help but laugh. You watched him shake his head at you. You moved your hand to his face, cupping his cheek as he had done to you moments prior. Gi hun looked at you with those wide puppy eyes of his and you couldn’t help but feel your heart skip a beat. 

“What would you have done if we met at a bar or something?”

The question was made to distract you. Gi hun knew you needed to think about something other than the games for a moment and he was more than willing to help you out. You guided your thumb against his cheek causing him to close his eyes. You continued to caress him as you thought of how to answer his question. 

“I’d be on the dance floor, swaying to the music that was blaring. You’d be sitting in a corner near the bar, a beer in your hand.”

Gi hun would never go to a club that played loud music but he kept the thought to himself, not wanting to ruin the moment. 

“From the moment I caught a look at you I would be able to tell you needed some company but I wouldn't walk over to you right away. Well, not without taking a shot anyway.”

Gi hun’s hand made its way to your thigh, squeezing it slightly in an attempt to tell you he was listening despite his eyes still being closed. Little did he know you’d shut your eyes too, desperately trying to conjure up the images of what  you were describing to him in your mind. 

“After my bit of liquid courage I'd finally make my way to you. I’d take a seat right beside you, staying quiet until you noticed me.”

“I’d notice you the moment you sat down. Wouldn’t be able to resist such a pretty sight.”

You flushed at that. You hoped he was still with his eyes closed so he couldn't see what his words did to you. 

“What would you say to me?”

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a shitty place like this.”

You laughed, opening your eyes. Gi hun watched you as you laughed.

“What? Too cliche?”

You smiled at him, your hand moving to rest on his chest.

“A little. But it’s okay. I like cliches.”

Gi hun gave you a grin and you nearly fainted at the sight. He’d smiled in front of you before, of course,  but it was always a brief smile and it was never directed at you. He had such a lovely smile. You wished you could see it more. His hand moved to your face, tucking a stray hair behind your ears before moving to cup your cheek. You leaned into his touch, adoring the feeling of his warm skin on yours. Gi hun called out your name in a whisper.

“Yes Gi hun?”

“Can I kiss you?”

You couldn’t hold back the smile that spread over your face.

“Please do.”

Gi hun was gentle. He inched himself closer to your body in a slow pace, his lips settling against yours in what you could only describe as a loving manner. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer into you. You would have stayed all night like this if you could but a sudden cough made you break apart.

The two of you turned to look at where the sound had come from. Jung Bae stood behind you in the darkness, a barely contained grin plastered on his features. Your face flushed with embarrassment. Gi hun wasn’t better off, his hand moving to the back of his neck awkwardly. But his discomfort only lasted a second because soon he was turning to Jung Bae.

“What is it?”

His tone made it clear that he was a bit annoyed at his friend. 

“It’s time to switch shifts.”

“Oh.”

Gi hun looked at you with a bit of disappointment. You got up from your spot so that Jung Bae could sit down. Before you left you leaned down and placed a kiss on Gi hun's cheek. 

“When your turn’s over, come lay down with me, ok?”

“Okay.”

“Night.”

“Sleep well.”

You’d barely made it four steps from the two of them before Jung Bae started teasing Gi hun. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. 

Later that evening you lay in your bed, trying to rest but unable to sleep. You heard the sound of footsteps causing you to turn to your side. You could barely see him in the dark but you recognized his stance immediately. You shifted in your bed, making a space near your body before patting the spot. Gi hun inched himself onto the bed, a sigh escaping his lips when he finally managed to lay down. The two of you looked at each other for a moment. 

“You can come closer if you want.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Gi hun shifted until your head was pressed against his chest. your arm moved to rest against his waist. The older man gave a content hum at the action, adoring the way you nuzzled into him. 

“I have a proposition.”

“Is that so? Okay, then let’s hear it.”

“When we get out of here you can take me on a proper date.”

“To a fancy restaurant?”

“It doesn't have to be. I don’t care where we go as long as we go together.”

Gi huns chest tightened at your words. Here you were making plans for when you got out and he wasn’t even sure his plan would even work. He wanted to believe it would but he also knew the risks. He pushed down his fear, opting instead to look down at you. You gazed up at him as his hand moved to caress your face.

“When we get out of here we’ll go anywhere you want sweetheart.”

He placed a kiss to your lips as if he was sealing his promise to you with it. Content with his answer you nuzzled into his chest, your eyes closing as sleep took over your body for the first time in hours. 

[thyras]

→ of great gatherings (bonus chapter)

PAIRING → mairon | sauron x female!elf!reader

WORD COUNT → 14.8k words

SERIES → of sauron & the moriquendi

WARNINGS → 18+ only MDNI - unprotected p in v, oral (female receiving), fingering, semi-public sex, tub sex, bruh this is just sex everywhere tbh

SUMMARY → your husband wishes to show you off in the grandest way possible.

AUTHORS NOTE → please don't kill me i'm running out of gif's guys, none of jack's sauron really works okay, i'm sorry. like i fucking love that moron but shit the chapters i've written of him do not align with that version of him 🤣 so as requested, cause y'all be some filthy horny animals I have two fully filled smut chapters to post for y'all, thought this was just 15k words nope apparently it was close to 30k so yeah i've split them up and i'll post them separately. so lots of eärlindë in this and we get why he calls her mori as well hehe though little tidbit, this story line was abandoned cause i was not going to have reader meet celebrimbor but his father. yeah i realized the timeline did not match up for melkor's first chaining so it was scrapped. but still hope y'all like it if the timeline is a little janky, i wrote all this like the day after i kinda knew what i wanted to write.

masterlist // series playlist // mood board

His eyes swept over you as you entered the room. You were adorned in one of your delicate gossamer gowns, every curve and contour of your form illuminated for him to admire. Your hair cascaded in loose waves, catching the golden hues of the evening sun, which framed you in a soft, ethereal halo. To Mairon, you were nothing less than a goddess—one worthy of an altar in the sky.

Your marital bliss was still so fresh, though years had passed since you first wed. Yet, he could never see that glow fading. Even now, Mairon often felt unworthy of the love and devotion you so freely gave. The sins of his past had long since faded into memory, and he had begun to move through this burgeoning city with greater ease. Feeling more than fallen Maia.

He had even ventured beyond its borders, learning from other elven craftsmen despite being a smith of Aulë—even if none knew of his true origins.

And still, in the quiet depths of night, when sleep occasionally found him, his dreams were shadowed with the lingering fear that this fragile happiness might shatter, that his secret would one day be laid bare.

A warmth touched your face as you stood beside him, neatly laying his freshly folded clothes on the wooden stool there. His hand emerged from the warm bathwater, catching your wrist before you could slip away. Water dampened the sleeve of your gown as his grip held you in place.

“Moriel,” he purred, his soft green gaze locking onto yours, searching for something only you could give. “Join me.”

You giggled, a playful smile curving your lips as you shook your head.

“I’ve already started getting ready,” you teased, flicking your eyes toward the neatly folded clothes. “And so should you.”

You moved to pull away, but in one swift motion, Mairon tugged you forward, pulling you into the bath with him.

A surprised yelp escaped your lips as you splashed into the warm water, laughter bubbling up in its wake. Your gown, now drenched, clung to your body like a second skin, leaving nothing to his imagination.

A playful smile danced on your lips as you pushed yourself back, away from Mairon's reach.

"Now look what you've done," you chuckled, trying to wring the water out of your soaked gown.

Mairon simply shrugged, his eyes locked onto your body, unbridled desire shining in their depths.

"I don't see a problem," he replied huskily, inching closer to you in the bath. "You know how much I adore seeing you wet."

Your cheeks flushed at his words, feeling heat pool low in your belly at the thought of him seeing you like this.

"Is that so?" you teased, playing coy even as his hand reached for yours and pulled you into his lap.

It was moments like these that reminded Mairon why he had chosen this life with you over all others. The way you responded to his touch with such raw abandon drove him wild with desire. 

But for now, he contented himself with kissing every inch of skin he could reach—the slope of your neck, the dip between your collarbones, and down to the valley between your breasts. You could feel his arousal pressing against your heated core, and you shifted your hips, grinding against him with a devilish grin. Mairon let out a low growl, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulled you even closer to him.

"Divine," Mairon growled against your skin. "Keep that up and we'll never make it to the gathering." 

You rolled your hips again teasingly. "Maybe that's my plan," you purred. "I'd rather feast on you right here."

With a groan, Mairon captured your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue plundering your mouth with unrestrained hunger. You returned the kiss with equal fervor, the wet fabric of your nightgown brushing against his bare chest as you pressed yourself against him. 

His hands roamed your body, gliding over the translucent material clinging to your curves. Fingers deftly untied the laces at the front until the fabric loosened. With a tug, he peeled the wet gown off, exposing your body to his greedy gaze. 

"Beautiful," he murmured reverently, gleaming eyes drinking in every inch of your glistening skin. "My Mori, my goddess." 

His hands caressed your breasts, thumbs flicking over the sensitive peaks until you arched into his touch with a gasp. Mairon's lips trailed kisses down your throat as his fingers dipped between your thighs, finding your slick folds. You mewled and ground against his hand, chasing the delicious friction.

"Mairon, please," you breathed, head lolling back as two fingers plunged inside your heat. "I need you."

"Patience, my love," he purred, pumping his fingers slowly, savoring your silken walls clenching around him. "I want to worship you properly first."

You whined as his fingers withdrew, but it quickly turned into a moan as Mairon's hot mouth enveloped your breast once more, tongue swirling around the stiff peak. His teeth grazed your sensitive flesh, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

"Yes!" you cried out, threading your fingers through his damp coppery hair to hold him against you. 

Mairon lavished attention on your breasts, suckling and nipping until you were writhing in his lap, desperate for more. His arousal throbbed between your bodies, the velvet head brushing your stomach. You reached down to stroke him, relishing the deep groan that rumbled in his chest.

Panting, Mairon released your nipple with a soft pop, eyes dark with lust as they met yours. "I want to taste you, sweet one," he rasped.

 With a wicked grin, you rose up on your knees, granting Mairon access to your dripping core. His hands gripped your hips as he guided you to hover over his face. You had to brace yourself against the edge of the tub as Mairon's sinful mouth made contact with your sensitive flesh. 

"Oh Mairon," you gasped as his tongue parted your folds, lapping up your essence. He groaned appreciatively, the vibrations making you shudder. 

Mairon begun eating you out, tongue swirling around your pearl before delving deep inside you. Your thighs trembled on either side of his head as he brought you closer and closer to the edge with every skilled flick and thrust. He slipped two fingers inside your clenching cunt, pumping in time with his licks.

"Don't stop, my love," you panted, rocking your hips against Mairon's face as the coil in your belly wound tighter and tighter. "I'm so close..."

Mairon redoubled his efforts, fingers curling inside you to stroke that sensitive spot while he suckled on your swollen pearl. The intense pleasure crashed over you in waves and with a sob of ecstasy, you shattered. Your inner walls clamped down on his fingers as you rode out your high, Mairon's tongue lapping up every drop of your release. 

Gently, he guided you back down into the warm bathwater, cradling you against his chest. You could feel his hardness pressing insistently against your stomach and you squirmed in his lap, eager to return the favor. But Mairon's arms tightened around your waist, stilling your movements.

"Not yet, my love," he murmured in your ear. "I'm almost finished.”

Mairon's hand glided down your stomach to tease your sensitive folds once more. You shivered and arched into his touch, still swollen from your recent climax. His nimble fingers circled your pearl, coaxing soft mewls from your lips as he reignited your arousal.

"Mairon," you whimpered. "I want to please you too." 

"You already please me more than you know, sweet one," he purred, nipping at your pointed ear. "Watching you come undone is the most exquisite sight."

To emphasize his point, Mairon thrust two fingers deep inside your core, making you cry out and clench around the sudden intrusion. He pumped them slowly, thumb rubbing firm circles on your pearl. The warm water lapped at your sensitized skin as Mairon worked you back up to a fever pitch. His other hand kneaded your breast, rolling and pinching the stiff peak until you were panting and writhing against him.

"That's it, my goddess," Mairon growled, increasing the pace of his thrusting fingers. "Let me feel you fall apart for me again."

Your walls fluttered around his digits as the pressure built, every drag against that spot inside you bringing you closer to oblivion. Mairon's teeth grazed the junction of your neck and shoulder before biting down, marking you as his. The erotic mix of pain and pleasure sent you careening over the edge with a strangled moan. 

Mairon worked you through the aftershocks, fingers gentling as you came down from your high. You sagged bonelessly against his chest, utterly sated. But Mairon's own need still pulsed hard and insistent between your bodies. With a languid smile, you shifted in his arms to straddle his lap, positioning yourself above his straining arousal.

"I believe it's my turn to worship you now, husband," you purred.

Mairon's sea-foam green eyes locked onto yours, burning with unbridled desire as you reached between your bodies to grasp his thick length. He let out a low hiss as you ran your palm along his shaft, your thumb swirling around the weeping tip. You positioned him at your entrance, teasing him with slow, shallow rocks of your hips that barely took him inside.

"Mori," Mairon growled, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. "Stop tormenting me, you devilish woman.”

With a coquettish grin, you sank down slowly onto Mairon's throbbing arousal, enveloping him in your tight, wet heat. Twin moans of pleasure filled the steamy air as you seated yourself fully in his lap, relishing the delicious stretch and fullness. You paused for a moment, savoring the feeling of being one with your beloved husband.

Mairon's hands roamed your back, fingers tracing patterns on your damp skin as he gazed up at you with adoration and desire. "My beautiful wife," he breathed reverently. "I am forever yours."

"As I am yours, my love," you whispered back, capturing his lips in a deep, sensual kiss. 

Slowly, you began to rock your hips on Mairon's thick shaft. The warm water lapped at your joined bodies, heightening every sensation. Mairon groaned into the kiss, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as he relished in your movements.

You set a languid pace, wanting to savor every blissful slide of his hardness inside your velvet walls. Mairon's hands glided up your sides to cup your breasts, kneading the soft mounds and teasing your nipples with flicks of his thumbs. You arched into his touch with a breathy moan, the dual stimulation sending sparks of pleasure racing through your veins.

"Mori," Mairon panted against your lips. "You feel incredible. So perfect around me."

"Mairon," you whimpered, circling your hips to grind against him. "You fill me so well, my love."

Mairon's hands slid down to grip your rear, guiding your movements as you undulated in his lap. The slick slide of your bodies, the erotic sounds of water lapping against heated skin, drove you both wild with lust. You increased your pace, moving to rise and fall on his thick shaft with wanton abandon. 

Mairon's head fell back against the edge of the tub, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as you rode him harder, faster. The coil of pleasure wound tighter in your core with every thrust, every drag of his cock inside you. You clenched around him, eliciting a strangled moan from Mairon's lips.

"Yes, just like that," he panted, hips snapping up to meet your downward thrusts. "Don't stop, I'm so close..."

You could feel your own release rapidly approaching, the relentless friction sending you spiraling towards that blissful edge. One hand gripped the edge of the tub for leverage while the other tangled in Mairon's damp hair, tugging him in for a sloppy, desperate kiss. Your tongues tangled and teeth clashed as you devoured each other, pouring all your love and passion into the heated embrace.

"Mairon, I'm close," you whimpered against his lips, walls fluttering around his length. "Come with me, my love."

"Together," Mairon groaned, one hand snaking between your bodies to rub firm circles on your swollen pearl. The added stimulation was all it took to send you flying over the edge with a keening cry of ecstasy. Your inner walls clamped down on Mairon's throbbing length, milking him for all he was worth as your orgasm crashed over you in intense waves of pleasure.

Mairon followed you a heartbeat later, spilling himself deep inside you with a hoarse call of your name. His hips jerked erratically as he emptied himself in long, hot spurts, your velvet heat coaxing every last drop from his pulsing shaft. 

You collapsed against Mairon's chest, both of you trembling and panting harshly as you came down from your mutual highs. Mairon's arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you close as he pressed soft kisses to your damp hair and temples. You nuzzled into his neck, savoring his warmth and the comforting scent of ash and soot that always clung to his skin.

For long moments, you simply held each other, basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking and the tranquility of the warm bathwater lapping at your sated bodies. Mairon's hands roamed your back in soothing caresses, fingers tracing idle patterns on your damp skin. You sighed contentedly, utterly at peace in your husband's strong arms.

Eventually, Mairon shifted, gently lifting you off his softening length. You whimpered at the loss, feeling empty without him filling you so completely. He chuckled softly at your pout, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. 

"As much as I would love to stay here with you all night, my goddess," Mairon murmured, "we do have a gathering to get to,” Reminding you of your earlier comment to him. 

You let out a languid sigh, nodding reluctantly. "I suppose you're right, my love. Though I can think of no finer feast than the one we just shared."

Mairon grinned at that, green eyes sparkling with mirth and adoration. "I couldn't agree more, sweet one. But alas, duty calls." 

With that, he stood, rivulets of water cascading down his toned body as he stepped out of the tub. You admired the play of muscles under his skin, the way his damp hair clung to his neck and shoulders. He was a vision of masculine beauty, and he was all yours.

Mairon turned, extending a hand to help you up. You grasped it, allowing him to pull you to your feet and out of the cooling bathwater. He enfolded you in a plush towel, rubbing your skin dry with gentle, attentive strokes. You practically purred at his ministrations, relishing his care. Once he was satisfied that every inch of you was dry, Mairon wrapped the towel snugly around your body before grabbing another for himself.

You padded over to the vanity, picking up your silver-handled hairbrush. Before you could begin detangling your damp tresses, Mairon's hand covered yours. "Allow me, my love," he murmured, taking the brush and guiding you to sit on the cushioned stool.

With infinite tenderness, Mairon ran the brush through your hair, carefully working out the knots and tangles. You closed your eyes, sighing contentedly at the soothing sensation. It never failed to amaze you how hands so powerful, so skilled at crafting wonders and forging metal, could be so incredibly gentle. Mairon treated you like the most precious treasure, every touch a whispered declaration of his love and devotion.

As he brushed your hair to a glossy sheen, his fingers would occasionally ghost along the elegant point of your ear or the nape of your neck, sending delicious shivers down your spine. With practiced ease, he separated sections of your hair, deftly twisting and braiding the strands into an intricate style fit for a queen. When he was finished, he reached for the silvery hairpiece on your vanity—the same one you had worn on your wedding night—and carefully placed it among his handiwork. The white jewels and silvery metal gleamed in the flickering candlelight, a reflection of the stars.

"Beautiful," Mairon murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as he admired his masterpiece in the mirror. "A vision of perfection, as always."

You smiled at his reflection, eyes glowing with love and adoration. "Only because I have you by my side, my love," you replied, turning to loop your arms around his neck. "You make me feel cherished and radiant every single day."

Mairon's eyes softened, a tender smile gracing his lips as he pulled you flush against him. "You are my everything, Moriel," he whispered ardently. "My heart, my fëa. I will spend eternity showing you just how deeply I adore you."

Your heart swelled at his heartfelt declaration, a lump forming in your throat. Even after all this time, Mairon still had the power to make you feel like a blushing maiden with his poetic words and passionate devotion. Rising onto your toes, you captured his lips in a slow, sweet kiss, pouring all your love into the gentle caress.

"As I adore you, Mairon," you breathed.

Mairon returned the kiss with equal tenderness, his arms tightening around your waist. These quiet, intimate moments with you were his greatest treasure, filling him with a deep sense of peace and contentment he had never known before you entered his life.

Reluctantly, you broke the kiss, gazing up at Mairon with a warm smile. "As much as I would love to stay in your arms all night, my darling, we really should finish getting ready." You said, repeating his earlier words.

Mairon let out a dramatic sigh, a playful pout forming on his sensual lips. "If we must," he conceded. "Though I plan to hold you in my arms and shower you with kisses the moment we return from the gathering."

You giggled, pressing a quick peck to his pouting mouth. "I shall hold you to that promise, husband."

With that, you gently disentangled yourself from his embrace and watched as he walked back into the washroom, where his neatly folded robes awaited him. You smiled softly, content with everything that had transpired before moving to retrieve the gown hanging on the door of your wardrobe.

It was a soft, velvety blue gown adorned with sparkling diamonds, stitched into the fabric in delicate, star-like patterns. The craftsmanship was so exquisite, it seemed almost as if Vairë herself had woven it from the very threads of the night sky. It felt too grand, too regal for a woman like you to wear—meant instead for a queen.

Yet Mairon had brought it back from his visit to Gondolin, wrapped in an opulent box, his eyes alight with anticipation as he presented it to you. The moment you unfolded the gown, your heart had stuttered in your chest. It was breathtaking, and though you had deemed it unnecessary—believing you had no occasion grand enough to wear such a masterpiece—Mairon had been insistent. He had urged you to try it on, and to your amazement, it fit as though it had been tailored for you alone.

And then, when you turned to face him, you saw the look in his eyes—pure, unguarded adoration.

"You truly are a goddess, my love," he had whispered.

His words had made you flush with warmth, for you had never felt as such. But beneath his gaze, beneath his touch, you felt as though you were Varda herself.

"Do you need help?" Mairon’s voice pulled you back to the present.

You turned to find him watching you, a soft smile gracing his lips. He had already donned his elegant crimson robes, the intricate embroidery catching the candlelight like embers in a fire. He looked every inch the regal lord, his copper hair cascading over his shoulders in molten waves. Your breath caught at the sight of him—still, after all these years, you could scarcely believe this magnificent being had chosen you as his wife for all eternity.

"Yes, please," you admitted, holding up the sumptuous gown. "I don't think I can manage these tiny pearl buttons on my own."

Mairon crossed the room, his eyes gleaming with warmth and affection. "It would be my pleasure, my love," he murmured, taking the gown from your hands and holding it open for you to step into.

You let the towel slip to the floor and slipped your arms through the delicate sleeves of the gown. The luxurious fabric whispered against your skin as Mairon eased it over your shoulders, helping you shimmy it up your body. His fingertips traced feather-light paths along your sides and back as he worked, igniting small sparks of pleasure in their wake. You shivered at the sensation, though you could not tell whether it was from the cool touch of the fabric or the searing warmth of his hands.

With deft fingers, Mairon began fastening the three tiny pearl buttons that ran up the small of your back. Each brush of his knuckles against your spine sent tingles racing through you. He worked slowly, almost reverently, savoring the intimate moment before a single finger trailed up your back, tracing the exposed skin where the gown remained open.

"You take my breath away, Mori," Mairon murmured, his warm breath fanning across your neck as he secured the final button at the nape of your neck, fastening the delicate shoulders of your gown in place. His fingertips lingered for a moment before tracing down the elegant curve of your back. "This gown suits you perfectly, as if it were woven for you alone."

You turned in his arms, gazing up at him with shining eyes. "Only because you chose it for me, my darling," you replied softly, reaching up to caress his chiseled cheek. "Your impeccable taste and eye for beauty never cease to amaze me."

Mairon leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment as he savored your gentle caress. "It is easy to choose beautiful things when I have perfection incarnate as my muse and inspiration," he purred, turning his head to press a tender kiss to your palm.

A delicate blush stained your cheeks at his heartfelt praise. Even after all this time, Mairon's poetic declarations of love and adoration still made your heart flutter like a hummingbird’s wings. You doubted you would ever grow accustomed to being so cherished and revered.

Mairon's hand came up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing across your flushed cheek. "My blushing bride," he teased gently, soft green eyes twinkling with mirth and affection. "Even after all this time, I can still make you blush with my words alone."

You playfully swatted his chest, an adoring smile tugging at your lips. “That silvery tongue of yours is going to get you trouble," you chided. "Keep your honeyed words for the gathering. We’re going to be late if we tarry much longer."

Mairon heaved an exaggerated sigh, his hands sliding down to rest on your hips. "As my lady commands," he acquiesced, though the wicked glint in his eye told you he was not quite finished with his amorous attentions.

He leaned in close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered, "But once we return, I fully intend to worship every inch of you until you are trembling and breathless with pleasure. Until the only word your lips remember is my name."

A shiver raced down your spine at his husky promise, heat pooling low in your belly. Your fingers tightened slightly where they rested on his chest, and for a fleeting moment, the thought of skipping the gathering altogether crossed your mind. But Mairon had grown to enjoy these grand affairs, or it was seeing you all made up and in your finery that drove him towards it. But in your heart you knew he would rather spend the night tangled in your embrace.

"I look forward to it, my love," you breathed, letting your lips brush fleetingly against his.

With a final heated look, Mairon stepped back and offered you his arm. "Shall we?"

You placed your hand in the crook of his elbow, a radiant smile blooming across your lips. "Lead the way, my dear husband."

Arm in arm, the two of you departed your home, stepping out into the moonlit streets of Laureandor.

Once at the gathering, you moved to envelop Eärlindë as she approached, her expression bright with delight. She returned your warm embrace, her laughter like the chime of silver bells.

"Tintilmë, you look absolutely stunning!" she exclaimed, holding you at arm’s length to admire your resplendent gown. "That color suits you beautifully."

You beamed at her praise, giving a little twirl to show off the shimmering fabric. "Thank you, my dear friend. It was a gift from Mairon."

Eärlindë’s eyes sparkled with mirth as she cast a glance toward your husband, who was engaged in conversation with a group of Noldorin lords. "He certainly has exquisite taste—in both fashion and wives," she teased, nudging you playfully.

You laughed, linking your arm with hers as the two of you began to weave your way through the gathering. The space had been transformed into something truly magical—golden lanterns hung from the trees, casting a warm, celestial glow over the revelers. The air was thick with the scent of exotic dishes and the sweet aroma of delicate confections. Soft music drifted through the night, mingling with the gentle hum of conversation and bursts of joyous laughter.

"It’s like something out of a dream," you sighed, your eyes drinking in the twinkling lights and elegantly dressed guests.

Eärlindë nodded, a smile gracing her lips. "The Noldor lords certainly elicit a grand response when their delegation arrives. Mother always goes overboard, seemingly feeling the need to prove herself or something." she commented as you looked around at all the elves present.

Many were from court, a court you never attended but knew. Whereas the taller ones you knew were high elves. Their opulent gowns, finery, and jewels all of Valinor. A place nether you or Eärlindë had seen.

Nor did you ever want to.

As you moved through the crowd, stopping occasionally to exchange greetings with familiar faces, you found yourself marveling at the unexpected path your life had taken.

From awakening in the woods of Cuiviénen, drinking from the sweet waters, migrating west with kin, traveling among the other Moriquendi and relishing in the beauty of Arda herself.

Never in your wildest imaginings did you expect to one day stand amongst the nobility of elves that were far younger than you, let alone knew of Beleriand’s true beauty.

Eventually, you and Eärlindë made your way to one of the long tables laden with delicacies, both savory and sweet. Crystal goblets filled with rich, fragrant wine gleamed invitingly under the lantern light. You each took a glass, moving to stand at the edge of the gathering where the view of the glowing garden stretched before you like an enchanted realm.

As you sipped your wine, movement from the corner of your eye caught your attention. A small cluster of elven ladies had gathered nearby, whispering and casting furtive glances in your direction. A few of them even had the audacity to point at your gown, their expressions laced with thinly veiled envy.

You felt a flicker of unease. Was the gown too ostentatious? Perhaps you should have chosen something simpler. But then you recalled the way Mairon had looked at you, as if you had woven the very stars into existence. His words echoed in your mind—"You truly are a goddess, my love."

Squaring your shoulders, you met the envious stares of the high elven ladies with a serene smile, refusing to let their pettiness diminish your joy.

Eärlindë, who had noticed the change in your posture, followed your gaze. When she spotted the gaggle of gossiping women, her brows furrowed in irritation. "Pay them no mind, Tintilmë," she murmured, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze. "They are merely bitter that your radiance outshines them all. Let them choke on their own jealousy."

You couldn’t help but chuckle at Eärlindë’s blunt words, grateful for her unwavering support. "You’re right, of course," you replied, taking another sip of your wine.

Your eyes wandered across the garden, searching for Mairon. It did not take long to find him. His crimson robes a striking contrast against the more subdued hues of the gathering. The coppery sheen of his hair caught the lantern light like molten fire, making him stand out effortlessly.

He was deep in conversation with a tall elven lord, whose finely embroidered outer robe bore a smith’s insignia—a fellow craftsman, no doubt. You could only imagine the topic at hand, likely some intricate discussion of metalwork or a trade of forging secrets.

As if sensing your gaze, Mairon glanced up, his sea-green eyes meeting yours instantly. A slow, knowing smile curved his lips, his expression filled with open adoration. With the barest tilt of his head, he beckoned you forward.

You turned to Eärlindë with an apologetic smile. "If you’ll excuse me, my dear, I believe my husband requires my attention."

Eärlindë followed your gaze, her smile turning knowing as she saw Mairon’s besotted expression. "Of course, mellon. Go to him. I’ll be just fine on my own."

With a grateful nod, you made your way through the gathering, your skirts swishing around your ankles as you moved with effortless grace. The envious stares of the high elven ladies burned into your back, but you paid them no heed. There was only one pair of eyes you cared for, and they were already fixed on you with unwavering devotion.

As you approached Mairon, the elven lord beside him turned his gaze upon you. He was taller which was typical of High Elves, with dark hair bound neatly at the nape of his neck, his strong features marked with a regal air. When he inclined his head in greeting, it was not the casual acknowledgment one would offer an acquaintance—it was a bow of deference, as if he expected you to be of higher station than you truly were.

And then recognition struck.

Curufin.

Your breath hitched slightly as you lowered into a respectful curtsy. You had heard of him before—one of Fëanor’s sons, a master smith in his own right. More importantly, he was a name you knew through Eärlindë’s brother, who had fought beside him in the early years of the war.

Rising gracefully, you met his gaze with composed politeness. "My Lord Curufin," you greeted, your voice steady despite the unexpectedness of his presence.

His dark eyes flickered with something unreadable before he inclined his head once more. "My lady," he greeted, his tone measured yet not unkind.

Mairon’s hand found the small of your back, his touch grounding you as always. “This is my wife, Tintilmë,” he said smoothly, his voice carrying the warmth of pride—but also a subtle edge of possession.

Curufin turned fully to you, taking your outstretched hand with practiced elegance. He brought it to his lips, pressing a chaste yet deliberate kiss to the delicate skin atop your knuckles. His lips lingered just a heartbeat too long for your husband's comfort. The shift was almost imperceptible, but you felt it—the tightening of Mairon’s grip against the small of your back, his fingers bunching the fine fabric of your gown ever so slightly.

"A pleasure, my lady," Curufin said as he released your hand and straightened to his full height. His gaze gleamed with something unreadable, a hint of amusement dancing in their depths. "It is not every day one has the privilege of meeting a maiden truly blessed by Varda herself."

Your face warmed at the unexpected compliment, but before you could formulate a response, you felt the slow rise and fall of Mairon's chest behind you. A glance upward confirmed your suspicion—his jaw was set, his expression composed, but the steel beneath his impassive exterior was unmistakable.

Possessiveness radiated from him like the smoldering heat of a forge, restrained but simmering beneath the surface. You knew that look well. While others might have mistaken his silence for indifference, you could see the warning in the slight clench of his jaw and the unyielding grip on your gown.

Curufin, it seemed, had noticed as well. A ghost of a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, as though he relished in pushing just enough to test the edges of Mairon’s restraint.

You cleared your throat delicately, hoping to diffuse the tension that crackled between the two smiths like a forge at full heat. "You are too kind, my lord," you replied graciously, offering Curufin a measured smile. "But I assure you, I am no more blessed than any other elf here tonight."

Curufin’s eyes glittered with intrigue, the corner of his mouth curving in something that was not quite a smirk. "Modesty becomes you, my lady. But surely you must know that your radiance outshines all others present." His gaze flickered briefly to Mairon before returning to you, keen and calculating. "A true jewel of Beleriand."

Before you could formulate a response, Mairon’s arm slipped fully around your waist, pulling you flush against his side in a blatant display of possession. His fingers pressed firmly into the fabric of your gown, a silent declaration of claim. "My wife's beauty is indeed unparalleled," he agreed, his voice a low, velvety purr that sent a shiver down your spine. "As is her grace and kindness. I am truly the most fortunate of elves to call her mine."

A warm flush crept up your neck at Mairon’s ardent words, his unwavering devotion sending a rush of heat through you. No matter how many times he declared his love, his admiration, it never failed to set your heart aflutter. Leaning into his embrace, you placed your hand over his where it rested on your hip, entwining your fingers in a silent reassurance that you belonged to no one but him.

Curufin inclined his head in acknowledgment, though the gleam in his eyes remained, assessing and appraising. "Indeed, you are a fortunate elf, Mairon," he mused, his tone almost too casual. "To have found such a rare treasure and claimed her as your own." A flicker of something unreadable passed through his gaze, his lips curving just slightly. "One can only hope you fully... appreciate her value."

The barely veiled insinuation made your stomach tighten, and you felt Mairon’s fingers flex against your hip, betraying the slow burn of anger beneath his controlled exterior. "I can assure you, Lord Curufin," he replied evenly, each syllable measured and precise, "that I cherish my wife above all else in this world. Her worth to me is beyond measure."

The unspoken warning in his tone was unmistakable—sharp as a honed dagger, a threat woven into civility. For a long moment, neither smith spoke, their gazes locked in a silent battle of wills. The air between them thrummed with the kind of tension that spoke of grudges unspoken and rivalries long since settled in steel and fire.

You glanced between them anxiously, your heart pounding. Though a small, primal part of you found the intensity of their regard thrilling, you knew better than to let this continue unchecked. The last thing you wished was for your presence to sow discord at what should have been a joyous gathering.

It was Curufin who broke the standoff, though the smirk that ghosted across his lips suggested he had achieved precisely what he intended. He inclined his head in a gesture that was both deferential and mocking. "Of that, I have no doubt," he drawled smoothly, his voice as rich and polished as the finest tempered steel. "Your devotion to your fair wife is admirable, Mairon. A lesser elf might find himself... distracted by such beauty." His eyes glinted, his meaning unmistakable.

Mairon’s grip tightened ever so slightly, his body rigid against yours. "Then it is fortunate that I am no lesser elf," he countered coolly, his words edged with steel.

Curufin’s smirk widened, a knowing gleam in his gaze as though Mairon had walked straight into his carefully laid verbal snare. But rather than press the point further, he merely dipped his head, feigning politeness. He had done what he came to do—test the edges of Mairon's restraint, and perhaps remind him that there were others who took notice of what he held most dear.

Satisfied, he straightened, offering a bow more formal than truly necessary. "I will take my leave," he said smoothly, his voice carrying just a whisper of amusement. "It was a pleasure speaking with you again, my lord." He turned to you then, his eyes settling on yours with an inscrutable look. "And an honor to meet you, my lady. For it is rare to meet a true child of Ilúvatar.”

With that, he gave a deeper, more measured bow and moved past you both, disappearing into the throng of guests.

Only when he was out of sight did you feel the full force of the tension leave Mairon’s frame. His fingers still rested against your hip, but they no longer pressed possessively—rather, they traced slow, absentminded circles against the fabric of your gown. You turned to him, catching the flicker of something dangerous in his eyes, something simmering just beneath the surface.

You exhaled softly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "Mairon," you murmured, coaxing him to meet your gaze.

His eyes softened, the glacial edge thawing ever so slightly. "He seeks to provoke," he muttered, his voice a thread of controlled ire. "And I do not take kindly to games where you are the prize."

You smiled gently, reaching up to trace your fingers along his jaw, easing away the tightness there. "I am no one's prize," you whispered. "I am yours. Always."

The heat in his gaze darkened, possessive in a way that sent a thrill through your veins. He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your fingers. "Yes," he murmured, his voice a promise. "Mine."

The intensity of Mairon's gaze, the fervent promise in that single word, sent a shiver of desire down your spine. In that moment, you wanted nothing more than to melt into his embrace, propriety be damned. But you were still very much in public, surrounded by curious eyes and wagging tongues. The last thing you needed was to provide more fodder for the envious whispers of the elite.

Even if it would give Eärlindë something to gossip about.

Reluctantly, you stepped back, placing a more respectable distance between your bodies while still keeping your hand entwined with Mairon’s. "Later, my love," you murmured, a coy smile playing at the corners of your lips. "When we are alone, I will show you just how thoroughly I am yours."

Mairon's eyes darkened with barely restrained hunger, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he visibly struggled to rein in his desire. "I will hold you to that promise, sweet one," he purred, his voice a dark caress that sent heat pooling low in your belly. "And I intend to worship every inch of you until there is no doubt in your mind or body to whom you belong."

A delicious shiver raced down your spine at his fervent declaration. Oh, how you ached to drag him away from the festivities and lose yourself in his embrace. But duty and propriety demanded your presence a while longer. With a soft sigh, you gave his hand a final squeeze before reluctantly releasing it.

"I look forward to it, husband," you murmured, your voice husky with promise. “Though perhaps we should mingle separately for a while longer," you suggested, hoping a bit of distance might help.

Mairon exhaled slowly, as though grounding himself, before offering a slight nod. A flicker of reluctance passed through his soft green eyes at the loss of your touch, but he understood. Much as you both longed to remain by each other’s side, it would be wise to circulate separately, lest your mutual distraction become too apparent to the ever-watchful nobles.

"Save a dance for me later," you whispered, your tone sweet with anticipation. "I will be counting the moments until I am back in your arms."

Mairon’s gaze softened, his sculpted lips curving into a tender smile. "For you, my heart, I would wait an eternity." He lifted your hand to his mouth, pressing a lingering kiss to your knuckles that sent tingles racing up your arm. "But I will be counting the moments all the same."

With one final heated look that promised delights yet to come, Mairon released your hand and stepped back, allowing you to glide into the glittering throng of revelers. Though your body instantly mourned the loss of his closeness, you knew the anticipation would only make your reunion all the sweeter.

You moved through the crowd with practiced ease, your luminous gown drawing admiring glances and murmured compliments as you passed. Outwardly, you were the picture of serene grace, exchanging polite smiles and nods with nobles and dignitaries alike. But beneath that carefully composed facade, your mind still reeled from the tense exchange between Mairon and Lord Curufin.

The Noldor smith had always been a master of barbed words, and tonight had been no exception. His thinly veiled insinuations—about you, about Mairon, about the nature of your marriage—had clearly struck a nerve. Your husband, usually so impervious to provocation, had barely concealed the simmering fury beneath his polished veneer. You could still recall the way his fingers had tightened around yours, how his voice had taken on that dangerous, silken edge that only appeared when he was at the precipice of temper.

A part of you should have been unsettled. And yet, a dark thrill curled in your belly, knowing that you had the power to stir such intensity in him. That your love—your mere presence—could fracture the iron control of a man who prided himself on his unshakable composure. A shiver of anticipation danced down your spine as you imagined how he would stake that claim in private, how he would worship you with all the fervor of a disciple before an altar, possessive and unrelenting.

Lost in your musings, you nearly failed to notice Eärlindë appear at your elbow, her expression alight with mischief. In her hands, she carried two new crystal goblets, their contents catching the glow of the lanterns in warm amber hues. She extended one to you with a knowing smile, her keen eyes flickering over your dreamy, distracted expression.

"I know that look," she teased gently.

You accepted the proffered goblet with a grateful smile, taking a sip of the chilled, honey-sweet wine. "Am I truly so transparent?" you asked ruefully, feeling a telltale warmth creeping into your cheeks.

Eärlindë laughed, a melodic sound that turned a few curious heads. "Only to one who knows you as well as I do," she assured you, her smile laced with sisterly affection. "Let me guess—your devastatingly handsome husband has just promised to ravish you senseless the moment he gets you alone."

The wine nearly caught in your throat as a fierce blush bloomed across your cheeks. You gave her an exasperated look, but the amusement in her eyes only deepened.

"Not in so many words," you admitted, lowering your voice to ensure it wouldn’t carry to prying ears. "But Lord Curufin seems to have gotten under his skin with a few ill-advised remarks regarding my… allure." You shook your head, torn between flattery and exasperation at the memory of the Noldor lord’s casual provocations. "I fear my poor husband may be driven to distraction with the need to stake his claim.”

Eärlindë’s brows arched, intrigue sparking in her gaze. "My, my, the infamous Curufin taking notice of our sweet Tintilmë? You do aim high, my friend." She chuckled, taking a dainty sip of her own wine as her eyes scanned the room, no doubt searching for the elf lord in question.

"Believe me, his attentions are entirely unwarranted," you said hastily, as if that alone would deter her interest. But this was Eärlindë—once she caught the scent of gossip, she would not easily be dissuaded.

She hummed, clearly unconvinced, and her lips curled into a sly grin. "Oh, I don’t doubt that. But that won’t stop me from enjoying the scandal of it all." Her voice dropped conspiratorially. "Tell me, did Mairon look ready to strike him down where he stood? Or was he simply seething in that quiet, terrifying way of his?"

You gave her a pointed look, but despite your best efforts, a small, traitorous smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

"Perhaps a bit of both," you confessed.

Eärlindë grinned triumphantly. "Delicious. Do you think Mairon would let me watch when he exacts his vengeance? No doubt it will be something terribly dramatic."

You sighed, though you couldn’t quite suppress the amusement bubbling beneath your breath. "You are incorrigible."

"And you love me for it," Eärlindë said breezily, though a knowing gleam sparked in her eyes. She tilted her head, studying you with mild amusement before arching a delicate brow. "So, the renowned smith of Himlad has decided to test our Mairon's mettle, has he? I can't say I'm entirely surprised."

You frowned, swirling the wine in your goblet. "What do you mean?"

Your friend leaned in conspiratorially, her voice dropping just enough to ensure your conversation remained private. "Curufin is known for his sharp tongue and his taste for mind games. He enjoys pushing boundaries, needling just enough to see how far he can prod before someone snaps. Especially those he considers potential rivals."

"Rivals?" you echoed, puzzled. "Surely he doesn't see Mairon as a threat. Their crafts are distinct, and Mairon has never shown an interest in playing politics."

Eärlindë chuckled softly, her lips curving in that way that made you feel slightly naïve despite your own wisdom. "Oh, my sweet, oblivious Tintilmë. For all your years, you can still be so blind sometimes." She took a sip of her wine before continuing. "This isn’t about craftsmanship or politics—it’s about pride." Her gaze flickered across the room, seeking Curufin among the revelers. "Curufin is used to being the most sought-after presence in any gathering. He commands attention simply by being who he is. But tonight, all eyes are on you and Mairon. You outshine everyone, and he can't stand being eclipsed, even for a moment."

You blinked, absorbing her words. "So, he’s trying to unsettle Mairon out of… jealousy? Petty rivalry?"

Eärlindë inclined her head slightly, though her expression turned more contemplative. "Jealousy, perhaps, but not just that. He’s also testing Mairon, taking the measure of his mind and spirit, trying to see what lies beneath that flawless composure."

A flicker of unease curled in your gut. "To what end? What could he possibly hope to gain by provoking my husband?"

"Knowledge, leverage, or simply the satisfaction of cracking a particularly well-guarded puzzle," she mused, swirling the wine in her goblet. "Curufin’s motives are rarely straightforward. But one thing is certain—he wouldn’t bother engaging Mairon at all if he didn’t see him as an equal. In a twisted way, this may be Curufin’s version of a compliment."

You let out a soft huff, shaking your head. "I can think of far more pleasant ways to pay a compliment," you muttered before taking a fortifying sip of wine. "Ways that don’t involve trying to drive a wedge between newlyweds."

Eärlindë smirked, reaching out to squeeze your arm reassuringly. "Pay him no mind, mellon. Mairon adores you far too much to let Curufin’s petty machinations sway him." Her eyes glimmered with playful mischief as she added, "If anything, I suspect this little display has only inflamed your husband’s desire to worship you properly once you’re alone."

Heat crept up your neck at her words, your body already thrumming with anticipation for Mairon’s ardent attentions. You let out a soft laugh, shaking off the wicked images forming in your mind. "You are incorrigible," you said, though your grateful squeeze of her hand betrayed your fondness.

"Honestly, what would you do without my wisdom and encouragement?"

"Get into even more trouble, no doubt," you teased back, matching her grin. "Someone has to keep me grounded amidst all this opulence and intrigue."

"Exactly," she said with a wink. "Now, let’s at least pretend we’re enjoying the party before someone starts whispering that your dear husband has already whisked you away."

You chuckled, but even as you kept up the appearance of polite engagement, your gaze inevitably strayed across the glittering throng. Your eyes found Mairon with an unerring pull, as if drawn by some invisible thread. He stood among a cluster of lords, speaking with his usual elegance, yet there was a tautness to his posture, a barely concealed impatience beneath his mask of control.

And then, as if sensing your gaze, he turned.

His sea-green eyes locked onto yours, and even across the crowded courtyard, you could see the fire smoldering in their depths. A silent promise. A vow unspoken yet utterly clear. Your breath hitched, anticipation coiling within you.

Mairon inclined his head almost imperceptibly, an acknowledgment of the charged energy crackling between you. The corners of his sensual lips curled into the barest hint of a smirk—a warning, a tease, a promise of what was to come.

Then, with a smooth farewell to his companions, he excused himself. His long strides ate up the distance between you, his presence commanding even in so casual a movement. Within moments, he was standing before you and Eärlindë, his gaze flickering briefly to your friend before settling back on you, dark with intent.

"May I steal my wife for a dance?" he inquired smoothly, offering you his hand.

Eärlindë, sipping from her glass, gave you a sidelong glance and wiggled her brows in barely concealed amusement.

A fresh wave of heat flooded your cheeks as you placed your hand in his, your fingers curling instinctively around his own. He helped you step gracefully down from where you had been standing, his touch sending sparks racing up your arm.

You handed your goblet to Eärlindë, who accepted it with an exaggerated air of suffering. "Have fun," she said with a teasing lilt. "And do try not to scandalize anyone—at least not too much."

Mairon’s smirk deepened as he led you onto the dance floor, the music swelling around you in soft, lilting strains. His arm slid around your waist as he pulled you close, his touch both possessive and reverent. You exhaled, tilting your head to meet his gaze, and in that moment, nothing else in the grand, glittering courtyard existed but the two of you.

As he led you through the steps of the dance, his emerald eyes bored into yours, dark with unspoken promise. "You are a vision, my love," he murmured, his voice a low caress that sent shivers racing down your spine. "A goddess made flesh. I can scarcely keep my hands off you."

You melted into his embrace, your body molding perfectly to his as you moved together in the age-old rhythm. "Then don't," you breathed.

Your words sent a jolt of desire straight to Mairon's core. His grip on your waist tightened as he spun you gracefully across the dance floor, the two of you moving as one. Every brush of his body against yours stoked the flames of your mutual longing, until you felt you might combust from the sheer intensity of his gaze.

"Careful what you wish for, sweet one," Mairon growled, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. "Keep testing my restraint, and I may just ravish you right here, propriety be damned."

You shivered, your blood heating at his promise. Rising slowly, you met his burning gaze through your lashes. "And what's stopping you, husband?" you asked, your voice husky. "I seem to recall you promising to worship me until I remember naught but your name.”

Mairon's eyes flashed, his grip on your waist tightening to an almost bruising pressure. "Mori," he growled, his voice rough with barely restrained desire. "You tempt me beyond reason."

In a move almost too swift to follow, he spun you off the dance floor and into a darkened side garden, hidden from prying eyes. His powerful body caged you against a cool stone pillar, his lips claiming yours in a searing kiss that stole the breath from your lungs.

You melted into him, your fingers tangling in his silken hair as you returned his kiss with equal fervor. Mairon's hands roved over your body, mapping every curve and hollow as if he would commit them to memory. When his nimble fingers found the buttons of your gown, you tore your mouth from his with a gasp.

"Mairon," you panted. "What if..." 

Despite your halfhearted protest, your body arched into his touch, craving more. Mairon's lips curved into a wicked smirk against your throat as he continued his sensual assault. 

"No one will find us, sweet one," he purred, his fingers deftly undoing the top button of your gown to expose your heaving chest as the velvet shoulders slipped downward. "I'll be quick. I just need a taste..."

You shuddered as his hot mouth descended to your chest, tongue swirling around a taut nipple. A breathy moan escaped your lips and your fingers tightened in his hair, holding him to you. Mairon growled his approval, the sound vibrating against your sensitive flesh.

He released your peaked bud with a soft pop before trailing open-mouthed kisses across the swell of your breasts. "I need you, Mori," Mairon growled against your heated skin. "I need to claim you, mark you, make you scream my name until there's no doubt who you belong to."

"Yes," you gasped, arching wantonly into his touch. "I'm yours, Mairon, only yours. Take me, please..."

With a groan of satisfaction, Mairon sealed his lips over yours in a deep, plundering kiss. His fingers bunched in the skirts of your gown, hitching the flowing fabric up your thighs. You whimpered into his mouth as his hand found your heated center, cupping you possessively. The heat of his hand against the growing wetness there, sent a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

"So wet for me already,” He chuckled darkly. With deft fingers, he sank two digits deep into your aching core. A keening moan tore from your throat as he began to pump them slowly, his thumb circling your sensitive pearl. Mairon swallowed your cries with his lips, mindful of the need for discretion even in his passion-fueled haze.

"That's it, sweet one," he rasped against your mouth. "Let me feel you, all of you. I want to drown in your essence, be consumed by your fire.”

Incoherent pleas and praises fell from your lips as Mairon worked you higher, his clever fingers unraveling you with ruthless precision. The wet sounds of his digits thrusting into your slick cunt filled the air, mingling with your breathy moans and the distant strains of music from the gathering. The delicious scandal of it all—your husband fingering you to ecstasy in a darkened garden while a hundred nobles drank and danced mere yards away—only heightened your pleasure, edging you closer to that elusive peak.

"Mairon, please," you whimpered, writhing against him as the coil in your core wound tighter and tighter. "I need... I need..."

"I know, sweet one," Mairon growled, nipping at your kiss-swollen lips as a third finger joined the first two, stretching you exquisitely.

You gasped at the addition, your inner walls clenching greedily around Mairon's plundering digits. The building pressure in your core was almost unbearable now, your entire being focused on the exquisite sensations radiating from where Mairon played your body like a finely tuned instrument.

"That's it, my love," he purred against your ear. "Sing for me. Let me hear those sweet sounds of your pleasure."

His fingers curled inside you, stroking that sweet spot that made stars burst behind your tightly closed eyelids. Your thighs trembled, barely able to support you as Mairon drove you closer and closer to the edge of bliss.

"Mairon!" you keened, your nails digging into his shoulders as you teetered on the precipice. "I'm going to...I can't..."

"Yes, you can," Mairon growled, his fingers pumping harder, faster, his thumb grinding mercilessly against your throbbing pearl. "Come for me, Mori. Let go, sweet one. Shatter for me."

His dark, sensual command sent you over the edge. With a choked cry, you flew apart, your release crashing over you in shuddering waves of ecstasy. Your inner walls clenched almost painfully around Mairon's fingers as they gentled you through the aftershocks, drawing out your pleasure until you were limp and quivering in his arms.

Mairon's soft green eyes burned into yours as he slowly, deliberately sucked your essence from his fingers, savoring your taste like the finest wine. The sight of his sensual mouth wrapped around those same digits that had just brought you to such dizzying heights sent a fresh wave of desire crashing through your still trembling body. 

"Exquisite," he purred, releasing his fingers with a final lick. "I could feast on your sweet taste for eternity and never be sated."

You whimpered softly, reaching for him with needy hands. "Mairon, please," you breathed, hardly recognizing your own voice, wrecked as it was with desire. "I need you inside me. I ache to be filled by you, claimed by you."

A low growl rumbled in Mairon's chest, his eyes flashing with possessive heat. "And I ache to fill you, to claim every inch of your luscious body as mine," he rasped, his voice rough with desire. "But I fear if I take you here and now, I will not be able to control myself. I want to worship you properly, my goddess. I want to lay you out on our bed and spend hours driving you mad with pleasure until you forget your own name."

You shivered at his dark promise, your body already thrumming with renewed anticipation. "Then take me home, husband," you purred, sliding your hands down his chest to brush teasingly over the straining evidence of his arousal. "Take me to our bed and make me yours in every way. I need your touch like I need air to breathe."

Mairon captured your wandering hands, bringing them to his lips to press fervent kisses to your fingers. "As my lady commands,"

With a final searing kiss that stole your breath, Mairon set your skirts to rights, helped you button your dress back up, and took your hand, leading you swiftly out of the darkened side garden. The music and chatter of the feast reached your ears once more as you emerged onto the main path, a reminder of the outside world that had briefly ceased to exist while you were wrapped in Mairon's passionate embrace.

You both made your way to the edge of the gathering, trying to slip away as unobtrusively as possible. But before you could make your escape, a familiar voice called out your name.

"Tintilmë! Leaving so soon?"

You turned to see Eärlindë approaching, her eyes twinkling with mirth as she took in your flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips. Beside you, Mairon stiffened imperceptibly, though he maintained his polite smile as your friend drew near.

"I'm afraid so, Eärlindë," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady despite the thrum of desire still coursing through your veins. "Mairon and I have some...matters to attend to at home."

Eärlindë's smile turned knowing, her gaze flicking between you and your husband with barely concealed amusement. "I'm sure you do," she teased, her melodic voice laced with innuendo. "Far be it from me to keep you from your...marital duties."

You felt heat creep up your neck at her playful insinuation, even as a thrill raced down your spine at the thought of what those "duties" entailed. Beside you, Mairon shifted subtly, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. You knew he was impatient to whisk you away and make good on his heated promises, but he maintained his composure for your friend's sake.

"Indeed," he replied smoothly, his rich voice betraying none of the hunger simmering beneath the surface. "My wife and I have much to...discuss in private. I'm sure you understand."

Eärlindë's eyes danced with barely suppressed laughter, but she nodded graciously. "Of course, my lord. I would not dream of keeping you from such important matters." She turned to you, pulling you in for a quick embrace. "You must tell me all about your 'discussions' later, mellon," she whispered in your ear, her voice trembling with mirth.

You swatted her arm playfully as you pulled away, fighting back a grin. "You are incorrigible, Eärlindë." 

Your friend merely winked, her smile full of mischief. "And you love me for it. Now go, enjoy your 'marital duties' with that delicious husband of yours." She made a shooing motion with her hands. "I expect a full report tomorrow!"

Shaking your head with a laugh, you allowed Mairon to lead you away, his strides purposeful as he guided you towards the path leading to home. The moment you were out of sight of the revelers, he pulled you flush against him, his arm snaking possessively around your waist.

"Divine," he growled against your ear, nipping at the sensitive lobe. "Teasing me with Eärlindë, knowing full well how desperate I am to have you." His hand slid lower, palming your ass through the thin velvet of your gown. "You enjoy testing my restraint, don't you, little temptress?"

You shivered, arching into his touch with a breathy sigh. "Can you blame me? Seeing you struggle to maintain your composure, knowing that I'm the reason for it...it's intoxicating."

Mairon's answering growl vibrated against your throat as he peppered your sensitive skin with hot, open-mouthed kisses. "Wicked woman. You'll pay for your teasing." He nipped at your racing pulse. "Once I get you home, I'm going to strip you bare and worship every inch of your body until you're mindless with pleasure."

You swallowed thickly, fighting against the desire to simply let Mairon take you right there on the moonlit path. "Then hurry, husband," you breathed. "Before I combust from wanting you."

Mairon's eyes glittered with dark promise as he scooped you into his arms, your surprised yelp quickly turning into delighted laughter as he carried you swiftly down the path towards home. Your heart raced with giddy anticipation, every nerve ending alight with desire for your passionate mate.

In what seemed like mere moments, you had crossed the threshold into your candlelit chambers. Mairon set you on your feet only long enough to secure the door before he was on you again, his mouth claiming yours in a searing kiss that left you weak in the knees.

"I thought I would go mad with jealousy tonight," he growled between kisses as he walked you backwards towards the bed, his nimble fingers already working on the buttons of your gown. "Seeing the way Curufin looked at you, the way his eyes devoured you like a wolf eyeing a lamb..." 

His teeth grazed your throat, making you gasp. "I wanted to throw you over my shoulder and carry you away from all those lustful stares, to remind everyone that you are mine and mine alone."

"Yours," you agreed breathlessly, shrugging out of your gown and letting the velvet fabric pool at your feet. "Only ever yours, Mairon."

A possessive growl rumbled through his chest as he drank in the sight of you standing before him in nothing but the silvery chain and wedding band he had placed upon you all those years ago. "My perfect goddess," he rasped, green eyes burning with reverent hunger. "Let me worship you as you deserve.”

With reverent hands, Mairon lifted you onto the bed, laying you out on the silken sheets like a priceless offering. His eyes raked over your naked form, drinking in every dip and curve illuminated by the flickering candlelight. You had never felt more desired, more cherished than you did under the heat of his adoring gaze.

"Magnificent," he breathed, long fingers trailing feather-light paths along your quivering skin. "An exquisite masterpiece shaped by Eru himself."

You keened softly, arching into his worshipful touch. "Mairon, please..."

He smiled, slow and sensual, as he divested himself of his own finery with deliberate grace. Each movement was a revelation, baring his sculpted physique to your hungry eyes inch by torturous inch until he stood before you in all his magnificent glory.

Mairon joined you on the bed, his powerful body covering yours as he claimed your lips in a deep, worshipful kiss. You melted beneath him, your fingers threading through his silken hair to hold him close. His tongue delved into the honeyed recesses of your mouth, mapping every curve and hollow.

"My Mori," he breathed against your lips. “My sweet wife,”

You moaned softly, your body already alight with need. "Show me," you pleaded, rolling your hips against his straining length. "Show me how much you adore me, husband."

Mairon's eyes flashed, a predatory smile curving his lips. He began a slow, sensual descent down your body, lips, teeth, and tongue painting fiery paths across your skin. He lingered at your breasts, lavishing attention on the soft mounds until you were arching off the bed with breathy cries, your fingers tangled almost painfully in his hair. His clever mouth suckled and nipped at the tender peaks, sending jolts of electric pleasure straight to your core.

"Mairon, yes.." you whimpered as he bit down on a sensitive nipple, the exquisite sting only heightening your arousal. 

He soothed the love bite with his tongue before continuing his worshipful journey down your quivering body. His hands mapped every inch of your heated flesh, tracing reverent patterns on your stomach, your thighs, the sensitive crease of your hips. He settled between your thighs like a supplicant before an altar, emerald eyes burning with reverent hunger as he took in your glistening folds.

"Moriel," he growled, hot breath fanning across your aching core. "I could feast on you for all eternity."

You shuddered, hips rolling pleadingly. "Then feast, my love. I am yours to devour.”

Mairon needed no further encouragement. With a groan of satisfaction, he buried his face between your thighs, his sinful mouth descending on your weeping center like a man starved. The first swipe of his tongue through your slick folds tore a keening cry from your lips, your back bowing off the bed at the exquisite sensation.

"Yes!" you gasped, one hand fisting in his silken hair while the other clawed at the sheets. "Just like that, my love..."

He growled his approval against your heated flesh, the vibrations only adding to the all-consuming pleasure building in your core. His lips closed around your throbbing pearl, suckling hard as two fingers plunged deep into your dripping core. The dual sensations sent you hurtling towards the edge with breathtaking speed.

Mairon's fingers pumped steadily as his tongue swirled and flicked against your sensitive bud, wringing gasps and moans from your lips with every masterful caress. He was relentless in his sensual onslaught, determined to shatter you again and again until you were boneless beneath him.

"Mairon, I-I'm close," you panted, feeling the tell-tale flutter of your inner walls. "Don't stop, please..."

He redoubled his efforts, fingers curling inside you to stroke the spot that made your toes curl and your vision blur. His lips and tongue worked in tandem, lashing your aching pearl until the coil in your belly snapped and you flew apart with a ragged scream of his name. 

Wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you as Mairon gentled you through the aftershocks, his fingers and tongue slowing their relentless rhythm to soft, soothing caresses. You quivered and gasped beneath him, boneless and sated in the aftermath of your shattering release. 

Slowly, almost reverently, Mairon kissed his way back up your body, pausing to lave tender attention on the marks of passion he had left in his wake. When he finally reached your lips, he claimed them in a deep, sensual kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. You moaned softly into his mouth, the intimate flavor igniting a fresh spark of desire in your veins.

"My goddess," Mairon breathed against your lips. "My perfect wife. I will never tire of worshipping you."

You smiled up at him, your heart full to bursting with love and desire for this magnificent being who had claimed you as his own. Reaching up, you traced the chiseled lines of his face with worshipful fingers, marveling at the raw beauty of him. 

"As I will never tire of being worshipped by you, husband," you murmured.

Mairon's eyes softened, a tender smile gracing his sculpted lips as he turned his head to press a fervent kiss to your palm. "Eternity will never be long enough to show you the depths of my love," he vowed, voice low and intense with emotion. "But I intend to spend every moment trying."

Mairon's lips claimed yours in a searing kiss, the intensity of his love and desire pouring into the passionate embrace. You surrendered to his ardent ministrations, your arms winding around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. The hard planes of his body aligned perfectly with your soft curves, two puzzle pieces fitting together in sublime harmony.

When the need for air finally forced you apart, Mairon rested his forehead against yours, his eyes boring into your own with breathtaking intensity. "My beautiful wife," he murmured, his voice low and rough with emotion. "I ache to be one with you, to join our bodies and souls as only husband and wife can."

You shivered at his words, your core clenching with desperate need. "Then take me, my love," you breathed, rolling your hips invitingly against his straining arousal. "Claim me,”

Mairon's eyes flashed with primal hunger at your wanton invitation. "With pleasure, my love," he growled, aligning himself at your entrance. 

With a powerful thrust of his hips, he sheathed himself fully inside your welcoming heat. Twin moans of ecstasy filled the air as you were finally joined as one, your bodies fitting together like lock and key. The delicious stretch and fullness drew a ragged gasp from your lips, your inner walls fluttering around his thick length.

"Mairon, yes..." you breathed, wrapping your legs around his trim waist to pull him impossibly deeper. "You feel incredible, my love."

He groaned, dropping his head to the crook of your neck as he savored the blissful sensation of your silken walls gripping him like a velvet glove. "No sweeter heaven than being buried inside you.”

Mairon began to move, his hips rolling in a slow, sensual rhythm that sent sparks of pleasure racing through your veins. Each deliberate thrust brushed against that spot deep within you, stoking the embers of your desire into a raging inferno. Your nails raked down the sculpted planes of his back, urging him on with breathy moans and pleas for more.

"Yes, Mairon," you gasped as he drove into you with increasing fervor, the wet slide of your joined bodies filling the room. "Harder, my love. I need to feel every inch of you."

With a guttural groan, Mairon complied, hips snapping against yours in a relentless rhythm, each powerful thrust driving you higher and higher towards that elusive peak. His lips and teeth mapped fiery paths across your throat and chest, worshipping every inch of your heated flesh. When his sinful mouth closed around a taut nipple, you cried out sharply, your back arching into his powerful thrusts.

"Mairon!" you keened, your fingers tangling almost painfully in his hair as he suckled and nipped at the sensitive bud. "Don't stop, my love, please..."

He growled his approval against your breast, the vibrations sending delicious shivers racing down your spine. His hand slid between your sweat-slicked bodies, nimble fingers finding your aching pearl. He circled the throbbing nub in tight, deliberate strokes, wringing desperate moans and pleas from your lips as he drove you towards the precipice with ruthless precision. The coil in your core wound tighter and tighter, your inner walls clenching greedily around his pistoning length. You could feel your release building like a tidal wave, cresting higher and higher with each masterful thrust and stroke.

"I'm so close!" you sobbed, your body beginning to tremble with the force of your impending climax. "Please, my love, I need..."

"I know, sweet one," Mairon rasped, his own voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. He wanted to feel you shatter around him first, to watch you come undone in ecstasy before emptying himself deep inside your fluttering sheath. "Let go for me, Mori. Come all over my cock."

His filthy words and the relentless stimulation were the end. With a keening cry, you shattered in his arms, your climax crashing over you in shuddering waves of pure ecstasy. Your inner walls clamped down on his throbbing length, milking him with pulsing intensity as you rode out the dizzying pleasure.

Mairon groaned long and low, the exquisite feel of you fluttering around him sending him careening over the edge. With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, spilling his hot seed deep inside your still quivering cunt. Your name fell from his lips like a reverent prayer as he lost himself to the bliss of his own release, his hips moving in shallow, erratic thrusts as he emptied every last drop into your welcoming womb.

Utterly sated, you clung to Mairon as the aftershocks of your mutual pleasure rippled through your joined bodies. He collapsed against you, his weight a warm, comforting presence as you both struggled to catch your breath. For long moments, you simply held each other, basking in the afterglow and the profound sense of connection it always brought.

Mairon was the first to stir, lifting his head from the crook of your neck to gaze down at you with adoring eyes. He brushed a few sweat-dampened locks from your brow, his touch infinitely tender. "My beautiful wife," he murmured, voice husky with emotion. “I could never tire of this.”

You smiled up at him, your heart full to bursting with love and contentment. "Nor could I, my darling husband," you whispered, tracing the chiseled lines of his face with worshipful fingers. "You are my everything, Mairon.”

Mairon's eyes softened, a tender smile gracing his sensual lips. "As you are mine, Mori," he breathed, turning his head to press a fervent kiss to your palm. "I am forever changed, forever blessed, to have you as my wife and eternal mate."

He shifted then, gently withdrawing from your warmth and rolling to his side, pulling you with him so that you were nestled against his chest. His arms encircled you, strong and protective, as though he could shield you from all the sorrows of the world. You nestled deeper into Mairon's embrace, relishing the comforting heat of his skin against yours. His fingers trailed idle patterns along your spine, soothing you like a lullaby. A contented sigh escaped your lips, your eyelids growing heavy in the hazy aftermath of your lovemaking.

"Sleep, my love," Mairon murmured, pressing a tender kiss to your hair. "I will guard your dreams and hold you close until morning’s light."

"Mmm, I like the sound of that," you mumbled, already halfway to slumber. The steady, rhythmic thrum of his heartbeat beneath your cheek was more potent than any sleeping draught. "Promise you'll still be here when I wake?"

Mairon's arms tightened around you, a silent vow. "Always, sweet one. There is nowhere in all of Arda I would rather be."

With that whispered promise, you let your eyes drift closed, secure and cherished in the circle of Mairon's arms. Sleep claimed you swiftly, your dreams filled with visions of eternal love and endless devotion. No matter what trials or challenges life might bring, you knew with unwavering certainty that Mairon would always be by your side—his love a steadfast anchor against the ever-changing tides of fate.

As you slept, Mairon watched over you, his green eyes soft with adoration and reverence. He marveled at the delicate beauty of your features in repose—the way your lashes fanned out against your cheeks, the gentle curve of your lips that he had kissed countless times. Even in slumber, you took his breath away, a vision of perfection that he still could scarcely believe was his to treasure.

Yet as he held you, his thoughts wandered back to the events of the evening—the simmering tension with Curufin, the way his possessive instincts had surged at the Noldor lord’s veiled provocations. Though Mairon knew beyond any doubt that your heart belonged to him alone, the mere thought of another coveting you, even in fleeting admiration, had stirred something primal within him. A need—not of mere possession, but of affirmation, to ensure that every fiber of your being knew, as surely as he did, that you were his and his alone.

He exhaled softly, brushing a reverent fingertip along your cheek, marveling at the silken softness of your skin. How had he been so blessed to earn the love and devotion of a maiden so radiant, so pure of heart? There were still moments when the shadows of his past whispered doubts in the recesses of his mind, when the weight of who he had once been threatened to taint the light he had found in you.

But then, he would look into your eyes—those luminous pools of unwavering adoration—and all fear would be banished. You had that power over him. You were his guiding star, his beacon of hope, casting light into the darkest corners of his fëa. With you beside him, Mairon felt capable of anything—renewed, redeemed, made whole by the sheer force of your love.

He silently vowed to spend every day proving himself worthy of the precious gift of your heart.

As the first rays of dawn painted the horizon in hues of rose and gold, Mairon pressed a final, reverent kiss to your brow before allowing himself to surrender to a light slumber. Even in sleep, his arms never loosened their protective embrace, as if holding onto you anchored him to the serenity he had found in your love.

Your soft breaths and the gentle rhythm of your heartbeat wove a lullaby more potent than any spell, and for the first time in his long, tumultuous existence, Mairon knew peace—a peace born not of conquest, nor of dominion, but of love. True and unbreakable.

Morning came all too soon, the warm caress of sunlight stirring you gently from your contented dreams. Your eyes fluttered open, blinking against the golden rays that filtered through the gossamer curtains. A sleepy smile curved your lips as you became aware of the strong arms still wrapped around you, holding you close against a firm, warm chest. Mairon's chest. Your husband, your love.

Careful not to wake him, you shifted slightly in his embrace, turning to face him. He looked so peaceful in slumber, the usual intensity of his features softened by the vulnerability of repose. Your heart swelled with adoration as you drank in the breathtaking sight of him—the high, sculpted cheekbones, the sensual curve of his lips, the fiery silk of his hair splayed across the pillow. Even in rest, he was a vision of masculine beauty, a work of art given life.

Unable to resist, you reached out to trace the lines of his face with a feather-light touch. Your fingertips ghosted over his brow, down the aristocratic slope of his nose, across the chiseled planes of his cheeks. You marveled at the smoothness of his skin, the way it warmed beneath your reverent caress. He was perfection incarnate.

Mairon stirred at your tender touch, his sea-foam eyes blinking open to meet your adoring gaze. A slow, sleepy smile curved his lips as he pulled you closer, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. "Good morning," he murmured, his voice husky from slumber. "What a vision you are to wake up to."

You giggled softly, threading your fingers through his sleep-tousled hair. "I could say the same, my love. Watching you sleep is one of my greatest joys." 

Mairon hummed contentedly, pressing languid kisses along your throat. "Is that so? And here I thought your greatest joy was screaming my name in ecstasy as I worship your exquisite body."

A shiver raced down your spine at his words, desire already stirring in your veins. "Mmm, that is a very close second," you purred, arching into his sensual kisses. "Perhaps you'd care to remind me just how exquisite that worship can be?"

Mairon's eyes darkened with hunger, a wicked smile curving his lips against your skin. "It would be my utmost pleasure, sweet one."

In a flash, he had rolled you beneath him, his powerful body covering yours deliciously. Your breath hitched as you felt his hardening length press against your thigh, evidence of his own stirring desire. Mairon claimed your lips in a deep, sensual kiss, his tongue delving past your parted lips to stroke and caress. You melted into the passionate embrace, your arms winding around his neck to pull him impossibly closer.

Mairon's hands roamed your body as he kissed you deeply, tracing every curve and dip he had long since committed to memory. Each caress ignited sparks of pleasure that raced through your veins, stoking your desire. You arched into his touch, silently begging for more, and he was all too happy to oblige.

His lips blazed a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your throat, pausing to nip and suck at your racing pulse. You gasped and writhed beneath him, your fingers tangling in his silken hair as he continued his sensual assault. When his clever mouth closed around a rosy peak, you cried out sharply, your back bowing off the bed.

"Mairon, yes!" you keened as he suckled and teased the sensitive bud, sending jolts of electric pleasure. His clever tongue swirled around the hardened peak, drawing breathy moans from your parted lips. Mairon lavished attention on your breasts, reveling in every gasp and whimper he coaxed from you. His hands mapped your quivering body with worshipful reverence.

Unable to resist any longer, you tugged impatiently at his hair, urging him back up to claim your lips once more. Mairon obliged with a low chuckle, sealing his mouth over yours in a deep, plundering kiss. As your tongues tangled sensually, you hooked a leg around his hip, using the leverage to grind your aching core against his hardness. You both groaned at the delicious friction, the kiss turning fevered and urgent.

Breaking away with a gasp, Mairon rested his forehead against yours, emerald eyes smoldering with barely restrained hunger. "I need you, Mori," he rasped, his voice rough with desire. "I ache to be one with you,”

"Yes, Mairon," you breathed, your body singing with the same desperate need. "Take me, my love."

With a low growl of satisfaction, Mairon reached between your bodies, aligning himself at your entrance. In one powerful thrust, he sheathed himself fully inside your slick heat, drawing twin moans of ecstasy from you both. Your inner walls fluttered around his thick length, relishing the delicious stretch and fullness that only he could provide.

Mairon stilled for a moment, savoring the blissful sensation of being buried deep inside your welcoming body. His eyes locked onto yours, burning with an intensity that stole your breath. "My perfect goddess," he murmured reverently, his fingers caressing your face with aching tenderness. "I will never tire of being one with you in every way."

"Nor will I, my love," you breathed, canting your hips to take him even deeper. 

Slowly, reverently, he began to move, his hips rolling in a sensual rhythm that sent waves of pleasure coursing through you.

You clung to his broad shoulders, meeting each deliberate thrust with a roll of your own hips. The slick slide of your joined bodies, the delicious drag of his thick length against your fluttering walls, drew breathy moans and gasps from your parted lips. Mairon drank in every sweet sound of your pleasure, his gaze never leaving your face as he made love to you with exquisite tenderness.

Your legs wound around Mairon's trim waist as he rocked into you, pulling him impossibly deeper. Each languid thrust brushed against that spot within you, stoking your desire. You could feel the coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter in your core, your inner walls beginning to flutter around his hardness.

"Mairon," you gasped, your fingers digging into the flexing muscles of his back.

He groaned against your throat, his rhythm growing more urgent, more purposeful. "I feel you, love," he rasped, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. "Your perfect body grips me so tightly, as if it never wants to let me go.”

You keened at his words, your head tossing against the pillow as Mairon's thrusts grew faster, harder, driving you closer and closer to that elusive peak. "Never, my love," you panted breathlessly. "I never want to let you go. I'm yours, Mairon, always..."

"Yes, Mori," he growled possessively, angling his hips to grind against that sensitive spot deep inside you with each purposeful thrust. "Mine, forever and always. No one else will ever touch you, worship you, like I do."

His hand slipped between your sweat-slicked bodies, fingers finding your aching pearl. He circled the throbbing nub in tight, deliberate strokes, the added stimulation wrenching sharp cries of ecstasy from your lips. The coil in your core wound impossibly tighter, your body trembling on the precipice of rapture. Mairon's thrusts grew more urgent, more demanding, each flex of his hips driving you higher and higher. His fingers worked your sensitive pearl mercilessly, determined to shatter you completely.

"Mairon…" you sobbed, your nails raking down his sweat-slicked back. "I can't...I'm going to..."

"Yes, Mori," he commanded, his voice a dark, sensual growl. "Come for me, my goddess, I have you."

With a keening cry, you shattered beneath him, your climax crashing over you in shuddering waves of ecstasy. Your inner walls clamped down on his throbbing length, milking him with rhythmic pulses as you rode out the pleasure. Mairon groaned long and low, the exquisite sensation of your fluttering heat too much to resist. With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, spilling his essence deep inside you as his own release overtook him.

Mairon's hips moved in shallow, erratic thrusts as he emptied himself completely, your name tumbling from his lips like a reverent prayer. You clung to him, your bodies trembling in the aftermath of your mutual bliss, hearts pounding in perfect synchronicity.

As your shared breathing slowed, Mairon carefully withdrew from your slick heat, a contented sigh escaping his luscious lips. Emerald eyes bored into yours, Mairon's expression one of profound love and adoration.

"Mori," he murmured hoarsely, ducking his head to press kisses along your collarbone. "My divine wife, words will never encompass how much I truly love you."

You threaded your fingers through his damp coppery locks, guiding him back up to meet your gaze. "Then show me, my darling," you whispered against his lips. "Every day, for the rest of our lives, show me the depths of your love. As I will show you mine."

Mairon's eyes softened, a tender smile curving his sensual mouth. "For all of eternity, my heart," he vowed, sealing his promise with a sweet, lingering kiss. 

You melted into his embrace, relishing the comforting weight of his body covering yours. These moments of tranquility, tangled in the sheets with your beloved husband, were more precious to you than all the gems in Arda. Here, in the sanctuary of your marriage bed, the outside world faded away until nothing existed but the two of you, bound by unrequited love and fiery passion.

[separatist-apologist]

How Did It End

Summary: When Morrigan was eighteen years old, she found a rare, enduring love with a human princess during the human rebellion. That love died gasping in her arms, and Mor swore she would never love another again.

Five hundred years later, standing in a training ring, Mor recognizes a pair a hazel eyes.

For @sjmromanceweek

Note: I stole this idea from @ablogofsapphicpanic who thought it would be a good idea for feysand. I'm not sorry.

Read on AO3

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War was hell.

Morrigan wasn’t built for it, though she excelled all the same. She’d been born to privilege, to be the pampered, pretty daughter of a lord. The dutiful daughter that secured her family’s position without complaint. And maybe in another life, Mor was that daughter—sometimes she wished she could have been. She’d tried to be, in every way she could.

She dressed the way they wanted her to, held her cutlery exactly right and spun around a dance floor with such grace strangers had once wept at the sight. Mor walked with her spine straight, her chin held high, her hair a perfectly curled cascade of gold. Men stopped to look. 

She rarely noticed them.

Seventeen years, and one night with Cassian had told Mor all she’d ever needed to know about herself. It had been a moment of defiance—her first ever, truthfully—to avoid a brutal, cruel marriage to a brutal, cruel male. 

Cassian was handsome. He was kind. He’d been patient and attentive and she’d felt good when he touched her. But that was all she felt, and when her eyes had fluttered shut as he’d lowered his mouth, she’d imagined another, softer face of a female she’d once known when she’d lived beneath the mountain.

Just friends. She would have sworn it even then. But deep, in her heart of hearts, Mor had known there had always been a little more on her end. She loved Cassian, but it wasn’t romantic—it was friendly. He’d tried coming around for a while after that, but took the hint when she refused to meet with him alone.

He wanted to discuss what happened. What it meant. Rhys must have explained the whole thing at some point. Her cousin knew, jaw clenched when she announced it to her uncle and her father, prepared for whatever consequences came next. 

She didn’t want to think about that. Not as she stood on the edge of the faerie realm, staring down the dull, human world she’d been cosigned to. The humans had queens, now, and she was sent as one of the ambassadors to help negotiate the end of the war. Victory wasn’t a certainty—Hybern’s forces had swept into Autumn the day before, scattering the royal family. If Mor was lucky, they’d at least take out Beron.

And Eris. Perhaps both, in one fell swoop, leaving the grieving widow and her brood of younglings to rebuild. If only. Likely, some other, more terrible lord would ascend to power given the transfer of magic in Prythian. Why did it always pick a male?

Rhys had once snapped at her that it didn’t always.

“The Mother picks who is worthiest. It’s not about gender, Mor.”

Then why was it always a male? 

She pushed the thought from her mind. The humans had queens. Queens. Six of them, if Rhys was to be believed—and she did. How barbaric and backward could they possibly be? Even with their budding, fragile society, the humans had managed to find six females of noble birth and elevated them into queens of their specific, new societies. 

The war still raged, and yet here, in these places, there was hope. Mor had never seen any of the human societies that existed beyond Prythian, had been told they were wastelands where humans lived no better than cattle, and sometimes worse. She’d heard a story at a party of humans who’d eliminate their waste where they stood and continue on as if it were the most normal thing in the world. They consumed their children, according to other stories. 

They needed the strong, steady hand of a more superior, smarter master—or, that was how her father told it. He didn’t want to be that master, but it was more practical than moral no matter how Rhys tried to dress it up.

Humans bred far easier, and more often than their fae counterparts. It was too hard to control so many of them. Rhys’ father had spent centuries in the attempt before he finally stopped bothering and freed his slaves. Rhys counted that as a win, and maybe it was. Maybe it was unfair to hold his bad reasons against the High Lord. At least he’d freed them—Spring hadn’t. 

But…Day Court had freed their slaves a full decade before, and allowed them sanctuary within their borders, making an enemy of many other courts. It had been a noble decision—Phobus argued passionately that humans were a shared ancestor and had inherent worth and dignity, despite their lack of immortality.

“There is nothing just or moral in long lives,” she’d heard him once say. She’d been no older than fifteen, but it had stuck with her and Rhys. He’d wanted to join the fighting, arguing with his father until he was sent to the front lines to die.

And Mor was sent as an emissary, presumably to get her away from Cassian and Azriel. Her father still held some sway with his brother, and Keir would be damned if his daughter interbred with Illyrians. Hate her as he might—the insult with Cassian had been nearly too much, but a marriage would send Keir over the edge.

She hadn’t seen Cassian in months. Azriel never left her uncle’s side, but Cassian was just gone, and sometimes, in the deepest, darkest held places in her soul, she was convinced she’d condemned the young warrior to death. 

Mor pushed the thought from her mind as another figure winnowed beside her, smelling faintly of vanilla and lime. It had been a compromise between the allied forces—no one trusted the Night Court, and Mor by association, so the Day Court had offered to send one of their famed scholars along. 

Mor had never met Arina in person, though they’d exchanged a few letters in preparation for the journey. While Mor was there to broker a treaty, Arina was there to chronicle the lives, culture, and society of the humans in an attempt to both better understand them and reshape the narrative around their existence.

Propaganda, Rhys had cynically called it.

Maybe a little propaganda was a good thing, if used by the right person. Arina certainly seemed unassuming, though if Phobus had sent her, it would be a mistake to totally underestimate her. It was tempting—the scholar was absurdly beautiful in a way anyone might appreciate, though Mor was certain males never would. Buttery blonde hair cascaded down her back, pulled into a rather polite knot at the nape of her graceful neck. Smooth, brown skin made the vivid green of her eyes seem starker by comparison, and though she wore a rather loose dress, it seemed to cling to the curves of her body the way water droplets did to blades of grass. 

And serious, given the slant of her pink mouth.

“It’s safe,” Mor rushed to assure her, wanting to, if nothing else, make a friend. She was surrounded by males all the time—one female friend wouldn’t be so bad.

“I’m not worried about that,” she replied without any malice to her words. Still, like Mor, she hesitated to take that step across the border. No matter how open-minded they claimed to be, all those old stories still lingered. No matter how many blades Mor wore, she, too, couldn’t bring herself to step across first.

The Day Court scholar offered up her palm, bag slung over her shoulder. “Together?” she suggested, that same frown etched over her features. 

Mor clapped her hand with Arina’s, grateful to not be alone even if they were strangers. “Together,” she agreed. 

Mor wondered if Arina, too, counted down from five in her head or if she simply waited for Mor. There was no tugging, no pulling her over that invisible boundary. One moment, their feet were planted in the lush, lovely grass of the faerie realm and the next the whole world seemed to blink out of color, turning a drab, miserable shade of gray. 

Looking over her shoulder, Mor couldn’t see a difference anywhere but in her mind's eye. There was merely a sea of swaying grass beneath a cloud covered sky. They’d been instructed not to winnow to the human palace, which meant the two females would need to walk to it.

It seemed the humans didn't trust them, either. Mor tried not to bristle over that—she’d been writing these nobles for months, now, while the High Lord of Night hovered over her shoulder demanding she phrase it just so.

They didn’t trust the males of Mor’s species. They’d wanted females, a shame given the Helion of the Day Court would have been far more astute company than the little slip of a woman keeping pace beside her. She came with a heavy recommendation from Helion, who was almost certainly doing something with her, given the way those golden eyes winked when he’d taken in Mor. 

Ugh.

Mor had heard stories of the humans, of course, and their brutish, backward ways. She held on to her belief they couldn’t be that brutish if they’d elevated their females, something the fae would never do willingly. Not collectively, anyway. Rhys might consider her his equal, but no one else around him did. Even Cassian and Azriel shifted from one leg to the other when Rhys asked Mor her opinion first, their annoyance swallowed and yet still felt. 

That didn’t mean these women had any real power, of course. Perhaps they were merely figure heads, controlled by men. That seemed unlikely to Morrigan, who had been around enough males and men to know they never missed an opportunity to claim power and credit, even if none of the accomplishments technically belonged to them. 

She and Arina remained silent for the walk, barely glancing at the other as they made their way forward. Grassland gave way to farmland, and then sporadic, small hamlets that became villages, that became towns, that eventually became a bustling city filled with the rounded ears that marked them human.

Many of them stopped in their tracks as she and Arina walked up the roads, their own eyes wide with a mixture of fear and distrust. There was no awe in their gaze—children hid behind their mothers skirts while men gripped whatever they held in their hands, prepared to use it like a weapon. 

Mor half wished Cassian had been allowed to escort them. She’d been instructed not to harm a human, even in self-defense. She supposed it benefited her father and uncle to have her here—either she succeeded, and they made valuable allies and absolved themselves of the atrocities they had willingly participated in, or she was torn to pieces and they were freed of her once and for all.

Beside her, Arina didn’t seem concerned at all. She offered tentative, shy smiles to those she passed, tucking her hair behind her ear so people could better see the long arch and the pointed tip. Children whispered among themselves, braver than their parents, especially as they neared the towering stone walls that guarded the city. 

Sentries stood post along the wall, their bow strings pulled tight, arrows notched. Mor swallowed, following Arina’s lead as she tried to banish any outward signs of fear. Could humans smell it? She didn’t think so, but also didn’t know. Didn’t want to test it and find herself buried in some shallow, unmarked grave. Mor’s eyes kept darting upward, though, her palms sweaty from nerves. 

She had no weapon save for her own training and inherent strength. It might be enough to push a few back, but if it came down to a numbers fight, Mor knew she couldn’t win. She’d need to rely on her own social graces and hope humans had similar customs. 

They were stopped at the gate, a crowd milling behind them. “Weapons?” a rough voiced guard asked, his brown eyes weathered at the corners. He, too, was looking at them other with that mix of curiosity and distrust, his sword gleaming in the gloomy light. 

“No weapons,” Arina said, offering him a toothless smile. Mor thought that was wise—no use letting them see those pointed canines and remind them of what the fae were capable of. 

“I need to check,” he told her, his voice wavering ever so slightly. Arina glanced over at Mor, swallowing as she nodded her head.

“Of course,” she agreed, though there was no mistaking how uneasy she was. Arina stood utterly still, which seemed to make the humans nervous, though Mor couldn’t understand why. They were careful with where they put their hands, respectful as they patted her down, feeling for daggers that might be concealed by her clothing.

Mor loathed when it was her turn. They didn’t make eye contact, and it was brief enough though not so brief she didn’t feel uncomfortable and a little nauseated. She didn’t want a strange man touching her.

Didn’t want any man touching her, if she was being honest with herself. She kept it to herself, grateful when the human guard nodded his head, indicating they could step into the walled off city. Unlike the outside, which seemed to be made up mainly of the farmers that helped sustain the overall population, inside was a bustling city that could have rivaled Velaris for scale, and Rhodes in terms of organization. 

Mor had expected a hovel or less. Filth and mud while humans lived in squalor and erected tents, their leaders planning while the rest were little better than servants. That's how it was being done back in Prythian during times of war or stress. There were clear hierarchies among them, just like back home but something felt different. 

More relaxed, she thought as she took in the lined rows of houses, painted in bright colors with matching shutters and steepled rooftops. The roads were laid with even cobblestones and though there were horses pulling carts through the throngs of city-goers, Mor didn’t smell the tell-tale scent of animal feces that she did so often in Prythian. How did they clean it, if not with magic, she wondered with no small amount of awe.

There were so many things she’d never seen before—vendors selling bolts of cloth in colors no fae wore, fabric she couldn’t name. Vegetables and fruits brightly colored, some spined or swollen, that she’d never tasted. Beads that glittered even in the gloom and flowers and meats and cheeses and a million other things she wanted to lose herself in. 

Mor’s steps started to slow, and might have stopped entirely had Arina not pressed two fingers into her elbow to keep her moving. How did the Day Court scholar resist temptation? The people in the city were just as curious, their chatter slowing and quietening as she and Arina passed with their guards—two at the front, and more at the back. Mor could sense their presence, though she didn’t dare turn around and look. 

Looming before them was more of a large estate than a castle or palace. It sprawled, much in a similar manner to the Forest House, those far newer and likely with less underground caverns—not that Mor had ever seen of them. She’d heard the Forest House stretched deep into the ground, though, and somehow didn’t think this palace did. Not to the same extent, anyway.

It seemed to be made of some kind of gleaming marble, with large, supporting columns and stairs that led from the city up to the main drive. 

There were no gates to keep people out, and only a handful of mostly ceremonial guards, armed with rapiers rather than heavy swords and bows. Their uniforms were crisp hues of blue and gold, with a fleur de lis emblazoned on the front. How did they manage to keep people out? Or did they just allow anyone to come strolling in, for any reason at all?

Mor made her way up the stairs, stomach tumbling nervously. Before that moment, coming to the human lands and meeting any of their royalty had been more conceptual in nature. It was real, now. They were here. Whatever happened, whatever came next, Mor was completely at the mercy of a species her kind had spent centuries enslaving. She almost laughed at the absurdity of it all—why should they listen to her? 

If it were the other way around, she knew her uncle wouldn’t. Still, this was diplomacy and Mor wanted to treat it with a delicate, gentle hand. It was better than being sent back to her fathers home and the punishment he’d devise just the moment no one was watching him again. If she could prove herself useful to her uncle, there would be a life for her outside of the Court of Nightmares, and more than anything, Mor wanted that. 

She felt like a child beside the far calmer Arina, who didn’t betray anything on that pretty face of hers. Mor kept glancing over as they stepped inside, waiting for her to react the way Mor felt. Her eyes didn’t even widen, fixed straight ahead as though this were normal. 

Focus on yourself, some inner voice ordered. 

The inside of the palace was busy, as one might expect, with servants that were allowed to be seen, alongside people bustling down this corridor or that. Mor could only guess their jobs given they all seemed to be dressed in similar fashion. There were more layers to the clothing here, more panels of fabric and boning that was visible, both for men and women.

Pants, too, which was frowned upon for females back home. Her father would have beaten her within an inch of her life. Her own dress conformed to her body like liquid, shifting and moving so you never lost sight of what Mor looked like. There were no layers to it, just the fabric it had been constructed with, with no need for the heavy structure or boning the humans employed thanks to whatever magic was woven into the threads. 

She felt exposed, though, with her sheer sleeves and dipping neckline. As they walked, she noted it wasn’t the men who looked at her with surprise and, perhaps, condemnation, but the human women. Their eyes would fall on her face before traveling toward her neck and then to her feet before snapping back to her face. Sometimes, Mor thought she saw pity there, though why they might pity her, she couldn’t begin to guess. 

Mor rather liked the openness of the palace. There were windows everywhere, thrown open to allow a gentle breeze to flow through. Without magic to regulate the temperature, the materials were chosen carefully to keep the chill or stifling heat from overwhelming the people who lived within the walls. 

She could marvel over engineering later. She, along with Arina and their guards, climbed a winding set of stairs to where the newly minted queen sat. It was the only time Arina gave any reaction at all, though it wasn’t to the queen itself but the embroidered tapestries that hung over the grand halls walls, depicting scenes of humans slaughtering their faerie slavers in rather excruciating detail. Arina betrayed no fear—only awe, though if it was the craftsmanship or the battles portrayed, Mor couldn’t say.

Sitting atop the throne was a rather young women—lovely, Mor thought, in that human way of theirs. Mortality made any beauty humans had seemed aching—fleeting. All the more beautiful for the shortness of their lives, the brevity of their youth. 

Mor guessed her age around thirty—maybe a little younger, but not much older. Her dark hair was half braided from her face, the rest falling in tight curls around her shoulders. The woman’s skin was a dark brown, unmarred by disease, offset by eyes so dark they seemed almost black. Gold jewelry adorned her throat and wrists while a matching diadem, inlaid with sparkling lapis lazuli gleamed atop her head. 

Arina dropped into an easy curtsey, reminding Mor that she, too, ought to show her respect. She’d been staring at the teardrop earrings, the rings that adorned long fingers, and the rich cobalt dress the woman wore. She oozed royalty, and yet the lines etched just around the corners of her kohl rimmed eyes told Mor she had endured suffering that was unimaginable. 

She didn’t rise from her throne, set at the far end of the room. Stained glass windows just behind her threw a rainbow of color across the raised platform, making this woman seem almost divine. How had they chosen her, and where had they found her? Mor didn’t think any human remembered their old lineages, their nobility that the fae had so thoroughly erased.

No, these were new families, made royal by measures Mor didn’t think she’d be privy to. 

“I’m surprised you arrived,” the queen said once Mor and Arina straightened themselves back up. “Your…High Lords, is it?”

“High Lords, yes,” Arina murmured, eyes glittering with suspicious amusement.

The queen nodded. “How quickly one forgets. They balked when I said we would only accept women into our court.”

Mor wanted to ask why—the queen seemed to expect her to, given the way her head cocked to the side, lips parting with an answer to an obvious question. Mor chose not to—why reveal how naive she was so early into their meeting.

“We’re grateful to be here,” she said instead, hoping she sounded sincere. She was glad to be there, to be useful in some small way, and to be far away from the family who just barely tolerated her. 

“You’re not, but you will be,” she replied, finally rising from her chair just as the doors behind them opened. A younger woman—a few years older than Mor, perhaps, but not by much, strode into the room. Mor’s breath caught when she saw her, adorned in a gold beaded, lilac dress. Her own dark hair hung in loose curls around her face, and rather than the onyx eyes of the queen, this woman had hazel eyes, more gold and brown than green. 

She halted when she realized what she’d stepped into, eyes bouncing from Mor to Arina. “Sister, I…”

“Emerie,” the queen murmured with a softened voice. “Our emissaries from the west have arrived.”

Emerie’s gaze hardened, those eyes landing on the tell-tale arched ears sticking from Mor and Arina’s head.

“How long are they here for, Andromeda?” Emerie demanded, crossing her arms across her chest. Mor was too enamored to be offended—Emerie was the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen in her entire life. Want bloomed through her, stronger than anything she’d ever felt in her life—a pull to touch her, instinct long dominant, now alive and writhing in her veins. Mor caught the scent of her, cool like the air blowing snow across the mountains in Illyria. 

Emerie looked like home. 

“Until freedom is secured, I hope,” Andromeda replied, gracefully crossing the floor to greet her younger sister. 

Emerie turned to look at them, eyes narrowed with that same distrust. “Hostages?”

“Emissaries,” Andromeda corrected, brushing a strand of hair from her sister's forehead with affection. 

“We’ve come in the name of peace,” Arina added, offering a pretty smile. Emerie didn’t react.

“Your kind doesn’t know the meaning of the word,” she retorted as her sister shushed her without anger. 

Mor’s eyes locked with Emeries—what horrors had Emerie witnessed? The same as Mor? Worse? She opened her mouth to disagree, but found she couldn’t. She still bore the scars, after all, of her father’s nails. Right then, Mor could feel the hands on her body as they’d held her writhing, screaming body down so he could nail that note into her body.

She could still see Eris’s sneering, horrible face as he left her where she was. 

Mor offered Emerie a slight nod of agreement, which seemed to pacify the woman, if only a little. Some flash of understanding seemed to cross Emerie’s expression, even if her gaze didn’t soften. That was enough for Mor, who wanted to talk to her, though for the life of Mor, she had no clue what she’d even say.

It didn’t matter. Emerie was shooed away, chased off by a few giggling ladies in waiting in equally pretty, rustling gowns that seemed to eat away at the silence. Mor tried—and failed—not to watch her leave. She was there to prove herself and do a job—nothing more.

And yet.

And yet.

[sakuraodango]

My Sex Curse with Sexy and Lustful Men: Chapter 12

pairings: reader (heroine) x zayne x xavier x rafayel x sylus tags: reverse harem, smut-oriented, kinks (+more tags!), some plot, little angst and feelings, nsfw content mdni- please read with caution, AU lads!

zayne and sylus (threesome) smut teaser in chapter 12

"Kitten."

You and Zayne froze at the sound of Sylus.

The door to your room opened and Sylus entered. He looked tired, but not surprised Zayne was here. He closed the door and sighed.

"I knew you were heading over, but I wished you would hold back. I prefer to not see your naked body. Of course, I'm not talking about you kitten." Sylus watched as you covered your body in embarrassment.

You hid your face in Zayne's chest, while he was still clothed, his shirt was unbuttoned, showing half his chest, and his pants were on the verge of falling. Sylus looked down, seeing Zayne's cock inside of you, smirking.

"Is that all you can fit in there?"

You felt Zayne's cock twitch inside of you at Sylus' words.

"No wonder she prefers me the most."

"!!" Your eyes widened when Zayne suddenly dropped you onto the bed. His cock slipped out of your pussy and stood in front of you still stiff and hard. "Zayne-"

"Suck." Your pussy gushed at Zayne's commanding voice.

You quickly sat up, taking Zayne's cock in your mouth. You sucked the tip of his cock, using your hand to rub his base. You moaned, enjoying his taste in your mouth.

"You said you're her favorite? Then prove it." Zayne glared at Sylus. "I always prioritize to take care of my love's pleasure, which is why I have not cum yet."

"So you're saying the one who makes her cum wins?" You hear Sylus drop his jacket onto the floor.

"Who ever makes her feel the greatest does." Sylus is always provoking Zayne, he finds fun in breaking the mask of the cold and stoic Zayne. Usually Zayne ignored Sylus' childish antis, but for the first time, he prevailed. Zayne brushed your hair from your face, his hand moved to the back of your head and pushed his cock inside your mouth a little further. The tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, which was a little painful, but…

It was a little exciting seeing how riled up Zayne is.

"Do you want my cum?" You nodded energetically. "Then do better."

You sucked Zayne's cock as hard as you could to pleasure him. Zayne said to Sylus he hasn't cum yet, does that mean Zayne can control his own orgasm? That's insane self-control. The moment any of your consorts touch your pussy or enter you, you feel like cumming so quickly. It was so pleasurable that you wanted to cum every second. So how can Zayne control himself so well?

Zayne watched you take him, the look of arousal in your eyes and desperation with your actions. You were sucking him so well, as much as he wanted to watch you eat his cum, but he also had his pride of being your first consort, Sylus had to be put in his place.

"Me too kitten," Sylus released his cock from his pants, placing himself in front of you.

You were able to take Sylus' cock in your hand when Zayne pushed his cock deeper in your mouth. You were shocked, Zayne has never forced his way onto you. He grabbed your head, roughly thrusting his cock in your mouth, using you as if you were his own sex toy. Which, you were, by the way.

"Oh, I didn't think you had it in you.." Sylus was slightly aroused with how Zayne was treating you. You held Zayne's waist to steady yourself and allowed Zayne to use your body for his pleasure. If you could handle this, imagine what else you could handle.

Sylus chuckled, seeing how much you were dripping down there. If Zayne wouldn't let him have his fun up there, then down there..

"HmmPH!" You choked on Zayne's cock when you felt a hand grabbing your hips and positioning you up.

You didn't see Sylus beside Zayne, instead, Sylus gotten on the bed, removing his clothes. He pulled down the maid dress you were wearing, making you also naked. He placed his cock at your entrance.

"Hmm! Mmm!" You never thought you were experience a threesome of your consorts before. There was that one time between you, Sylus and Rafayel, but to be actually penetrated?!

You wanted to speak, but Zayne wouldn't let you go.

"Kitten, I don't need to prepare you, right?" Sylus rubbed his cock against your clit, which caused you to let out choked moans.

Sylus groaned when he entered your pussy. You let out tears, feeling so overwhelmed by the pleasure your consorts were giving you. It was too much… But..

But you loved it.

read more at AO3

masterlist | lads masterlist

[signcfthetiimes]

there's a part of her that wished maybe he didn't remember. that she could just kick him out and not face this right now. maybe she should have kicked him out last night. but violet knew that's not really what she wanted at all. when a silence lingered on them, violet had to look away from him. actually eating some of the breakfast on the plate in front of her. when he finally spoke again, she drew a breath, steadying herself as she watched os fumble through his words. his earnestness was undeniable, but it didn’t ease the knot in her chest. her thumb rubbed a slow, nervous pattern against the edge of her plate as she tried to sort through the whirlwind of thoughts crashing around in her head. she wanted to say something comforting, something that would make this easier for both of them. but none of it was simple. when he admitted that he wanted to be with her, that he'd stay or leave depending on what she needed, her heart twisted in a way that was both painful and relieving. the part of her that was still angry wanted to call bullshit. but then there was the part that remembered how it felt when he was close. the part that never wanted to let go in the first place. "i want to believe you," she said finally, her voice steady but soft, carefully controlled. "and i do, a little... but i’m scared too, os." she looked down at the table, not quite meeting his gaze. "you say you won’t run, that you want to be here. but you’ve already left once. what happens next time you get scared? if we have a fight and things get hard?" there was no accusation, only a raw uncertainty that she couldn’t shake. "i love you," she admitted quietly, the truth slipping out again despite every instinct telling her to protect herself. violet looked back up at him. "so much that sometimes it feels like my chest is going to explode." and she didn't want to feel sad anymore. she already had too much trauma and emotions to deal with and the only person that helped her forget about all that was os.

He mostly moved the food around, hardly eating anything, silently listening to Violet speak. "Yeah, I don't really shut up when I'm that wasted." A truthful drunk who couldn't quite keep his mouth shut. Most of the time, it got him into trouble. "No, I remember." He reassures her quietly, staring down at his plate, almost too scared to look at her. "It wasn't bullshit." He confirms her words with a nod, gaze drifting back up to her. "You should've hit me." He breaths out a small, awkward laugh. He deserved as much. Os stared at her for a while, trying to speak but ultimately failing each time. He had so much he wanted to say but couldn't find where to start. "I know I hurt you," He finally found his voice, but he spoke more quietly than normal. Guilt, shame, remorse, all weighing heavy on him. If he felt this way, he couldn't even begin to imagine the way she felt. "I know I fucked up, I decided on my own what was better for you, I didn't talk to you, I just--" Her words from last night rang through his head, every raw emotion smacking him right in his chest. "I ran, how fucking pathetic." He mumbles under his breath, letting the fork fall from his fingers and onto the plate with a small clank. "...I want to figure this out, I want to be with you." He locks his gaze with hers, desperately trying to convey everything he felt. "If you want that, I'm here. I'll do whatever you need." He felt himself holding his breath, so he exhaled a shaky sigh. "If you need space, for me to piss off, anything at all -- I'll do it." He tried his best to form a smile, but there was still too many emotions filtering their way into it. He wanted to be strong for her, to be the support she needed despite ultimately being the cause of her pain. "Thanks, for not kicking me out."

[r3djy]

i just want to feel something

i just want to love someone else the way i loved her, but there's no one else left now

god, it hurt so bad

[dashiellqvverty]

my opinion on season 11 is that ian and mickey were all over the place from episode to episode and i ultimately wasn’t very happy with where it ended for them

[skrunksthatwunk]

not my dad not liking moral orel season 3 🤭🤭🤭that's so embarrassing for him (<- he's not wrong for feeling that way but i think it's like 60% because he doesn't like it when art gets weird and that's so so tragic for him)

[ciaoteamo]

Milk and Water Pt. II

pairings: doppelgänger!Milkman x fem!Reader

summary: the aftermath of letting him in

pt.I

(art credits: @yunonoaii)

warnings: 18+ content

“…what. the. fuck.” You mutter to yourself, watching the scene before you unfold.

“mmm, how about letting me in now? promise i won’t bite you too hard” His eyes were dangerously seductive.

Your desktop fan and the slight rustling sound of (what you could only assume was) him touching himself filled the eerie silence of your office space.

However, he could still tell that you were hesitant to let him in, especially considering what he just did to D.D.D.

“how about this, sweetheart we-“

“if i open this door.” You cut him off. He shuts up quickly and halts his movements with a blank stare. His eyes watching you intently.

“you come straight to me, or else i swear to fuck. it will not be a good time for you. you copy?” Your hands were firmly grasping the edge of the desk as you stared the man in his color changing eyes.

“i promise” He kisses the window and you give him one last short lived glare before unlocking the door for him.

BZZT!

He slowly turns away from you and walks toward the door and you felt relieved to hear a light knock a few seconds later before he let himself in.

“see? you can trust the milkman” He grins.

He was a mess. Between the torn clothing, the blood, and his unzipped slacks that displayed his black briefs holding back a huge bulge, he honestly looked like something out of a wet dream.

“this is quite a small space… you think i’ll be alright in here?” He closed the door behind himself and strides toward you.

“you don’t have any choice but to be alright” You retort and he chortles.

“i love this mouth of yours… i’ve never crossed paths with a human as bold as you…” He tilts his head, placing a hand under your chin to lift it a bit.

“unless you’re actually scared… and using this boldness as a tactic..?” His irises turn white once again and his grip on your chin tightened slightly.

Though you were enduring a near death experience right now, being that you were this close to a doppelgänger, you were unbelievably horny.

“tactics?” You start. You already knew that you probably wouldn’t be able to get out of his grip just by moving, so you used a more… inappropriate approach.

You took a step closer to him, closing in the 2 foot gap that sat between the two of you and you placed your palm over his hard-on.

His grip immediately loosened a bit and his fingers twitched against your skin. What a reaction that was…

You feel more confident, realizing that he’s just another horny good looking guy. “is there a reason i should be afraid of you?” You ask, hand squeezing around him and a finger rubbing his tip.

He shudders and his hand falls from your chin and rests around your throat. His forehead tapped against yours, and your eyes were fixed on each other. “…you really are something”

“wish i could say the same for you“ You start, breaking the eye contact to look at his lips and sharp canines. “you’re just a slutty and messy excuse of a monster” Your words would probably be venom to anyone else, but this only riled him up more.

You felt his throbbing under your palm and grin to yourself before being greedily pulled into a kiss. For a brief moment, you could taste a metallic bloody taste on his tongue.

You moaned at the warmth of his mouth and felt his hands rested on your hips, rubbing circles into the area.

You release yourself from the kiss with his bottom lip between your teeth and a smile. “desperate, are we?” You tease.

“painfully…” His eyes glistened. “what’ll it take to get those pretty lips to go a little lower?”

“show me what yours can do first and i’ll see about returning the favor” You challenge. His eyes go back and forth between yours before he kisses you again.

This time however, he started to undo your uniform. Groaning so deeply that you felt the rumble in your throat. His skilled hands loosened your belt and your slacks came down and off.

Next he lowered himself and lifted you a bit to get off your socks and shoes, making him get more sloppy and needy within the kiss.

At this point he was squatting and you were standing over him, holding both sides of his face. His hands travelled up and down your leg as he stayed in his position and this time, he’s the one to break the kiss.

You were both breathing heavily, and staring each other down. You almost forgot your resolve and let him fuck you right then and there.

But you had to stay strong, for both of you guys’ sake. You take a deep breath in and til your head.

“well, you gonna show me? or are just sit there and look delirious from a simple kiss?” You teased.

“…may i?” He asks with a slightly raised eyebrow, gesturing toward your leg.

“go ahead”

“hold on to something right”

“why am i h- shit!” You would’ve fell right to the ground if it wasn’t for the shelf behind you that held last months documents. Albeit, they’re scattered over the floor now.

Your legs were snatched from underneath you and each one was hooked over the man’s shoulders. His warm breath against you felt sinister. It sent a slight chill up your spine.

His eyes stared down at your sex and he licked his lips, looking more excited than you did for this. “don’t let go” He says before using gis fingers to spread you sticky lips.

His tongue pressed hard into you and drug from your hole, up to your clit. You bit your lip at the warmth and felt your back arch against your will.

“ha~ this all you got? Thought you said you’d be bet- anghh~!” Your eyes widen and your mouth drops at the new feeling below.

“you were saying?” He mumbles into you. His tongue was longer with a pointy tip, and his lips were wrapped tightly around your clit.

The pleasure was almost overwhelming. You could definitely admit that he made you eat your words and replace them with loud endless moans.

As you felt yourself getting closer you began to grind your hips over his face, chasing after your high.

“don’t stop” You could barely get out the last word before the wave of immense overstimulating pleasure came over you.

You curse and take in a few deep breaths, calming yourself down a bit, and only then did he let your clit go with a ‘pop’, making your legs to twitch.

“that wasn’t fair” You jokingly glare at him, the sweat making your skin shine and chilly from the fan air.

“i told you i was better” He wipes his chin with his thumb and licks it clean without breaking the eye contact.

“you have to be some sort of… sex demon” You shake your head in disbelief.

“maybe i am?” He lets you tug him closer by his tie and give him another sloppy kiss. The change in size of his tongue being just below too much for you as it explored your mouth.

“well let’s see how long you can last then… hm?” You ask, beginning to leave a trail of light kisses on his next before a harsh bite.

You could feel him shudder and decided to have him sit in your office chair. “let me borrow this..” You say, undoing his tie while he sat.

You spin the chair around and bring both of his arms to the back and tie them to the chair. When you spin his back around, his had such a mischievous grin that you went ahead and addressed.

“yes, i know you could probably get out of that in a heartbeat” You start and roll your eyes. He chuckles, amused at your awareness. “but, will you?” It was your turn to put on the sly grin now. The second he managed to break free from his restraint, would be the moment you’d send him off.

“…” He read your face, bit knowing if he should say something sly or not.

“right, thought so” You smile and give him a few taps on the cheek.

You kneel between the man’s legs, finally addressing the large and throbbing penis before you.

“god you’re hard… you weren’t kidding when you said you needed help” You joke, rubbing his wet tip through his boxers with you finger.

He grunted a bit and readjusted himself in his seat. You look up at him before pressing harshly on it with your thumb.

“oh fuck you~” He throws his head back and you giggle.

You reach for the hem of his briefs and tug at them, signaling him to lift his hips. Once he’s exposed, you could really see the girth and length of him.

He was veiny, thick… bright pink tip, and god knows how long it was.

You put your hand around the base, it was warm and nearly pulsating. Your pace was moderate, giving him just enough to work with. You knew it was a nice steady pace when his hips slightly jerked up for more friction.

“needy boy wanting to fuck my hand? this wasn’t even the main event you asked for, love” You coo, strengthening the grip you had on him by a smidge.

“i can’t help that you know how to use those hands of yours so well” He remarks, still facing the ceiling.

You pump your fist higher up and use your own skilled tongue to drag along his vein.

“@$?!~” He moaned and immediately looked down at you with a snarl. An almost threatening one telling you that he wanted more.

And were you planning on giving it to him? Absolutely not.

You stare right back at him and smirk, using the same motion and occasionally sucking the pre cum from its leaky pink source.

“i’m gonna cum” Your eyes welled a bit at the large shaft triggering your gag reflex. But he was close so you would endure the slight pain.

His thrust his hips up a few times and you force your head as far as you could before completely stopping.

“fuck- why’d you stop” His voice was almost a whisper and suddenly thick white ropes shot into the air and landed on his thigh.

“oh i’m sorry, i’ll keep going” You reach for his most sensitive spots, overstimulating him into a nervous laughter as he begged you to stop.

It was fun watching him experience more than he could handle, but all good things come to an end.

He sighs in relief, sweaty, heaving, and dazed.

“can i be freed now?” He asks.

“sure, why not. looks like you’re done here anyway” You shrug.

“who’s done?” He stands up, simply snapping the tie apart.

“oh… you’ve still got more in you?”

“im the milkman, i never run out” He suddenly picks you up and sits on you on the desk. Jesus, these things are strong.

You wrap your hands around your neck, suddenly feeling the arousal for another round yourself.

His hands find your slick entrance, teasing the outside and slipping two cold slender fingers into you.

“mmm!” You mean into the kiss, holding onto his forearm as he fingered you at an inhumane pace. You break away and cat h your breath trying to slow him down a bit.

“i don’t want to cum from this, put it in” You say.

“yes ma’am” He lines himself up without your entrance and slowly pushes himself in with a moan. You could every centimeter of the stretch as he went deeper.

You tapped the back of your head onto the window behind you and felt him kissing on your neck and collarbone.

“fuck you’re big” Your voice slightly shook as you stated the obvious.

“and you’re so warm and wet inside, i ashamed to admit that i almost came putting it in” He chuckled before biting back another groan.

RIIIIING

RIIIIING

You snap your head in the direction of the phone and see D.D.D. calling.

Shit.

“stop, i have to take this.” He halts his thrusts and you grab the phone. “hello?”

“agent number” A deep voice says over the phone.

“5 5 8 4 3 7” You state clearly.

“thank you agent (Y/N), we’re calling about a few M.I.A. cleaners? it says in our system that you were the last to call. is everything alright?”

“ye-es~” You feel something rubbing your g-spot and look over at Francis. ‘stop, now.’ You mouth silently. He just smirks and speeds up.

“are you sure? you sound like you’re being threatened” The man on the phone asks.

“mhm~, im fine sir, just a little shaky” You put your hand over the phone speaker and look at Francis.

“what the fuck is wrong with you??” You ask, interrupting yourself with a few moans.

“just a little thirsty for some water” He thrusts harder, causing him to hit your g-spot, and your clit back to back.

You cover your mouth with your shirt and moan into it, hearing the buzz of a voice on the phone. Honestly you should be scared, they could show any minute, but right now, you could care less.

“im gonna cum” You whisper, still being mindful of the potential listeners.

“yeah?” He grabs a young and stands straight up, slamming you down into his cock. You let out something just short of a scream into the crook of his neck and find yourself twitching and shaking in his grip.

You heard a splash and felt him fill you up with his seed. You both were a moaning, groaning mess, heavily breathing in place.

“(Y/N), do you copy?……. we’re on our way” The phone then hangs up and the low buzzy voice is replaced with a prominent beep.

“you have to go, they’re coming” You lazily try to leave his strong hold with a tired push against his chest.

“but first” He puts you back on the desk where you rest your back against the cold glass window. “a drink..” His tongue grows longer right infont of you, and cleans you from your ankles to your navel, and of course he ran it over the bundle of nerves he’s been abusing all night, making your body jolt.

“you’re so delicious… i wish i could always taste you” His tongue goes back to its normal size.

“well i’ll get going now… i’ll be seeing you again soon, love. i’ll try not to cause too much trouble next time…” He gives you a peppery kiss on the nose and leaves.

Well, that’s one way to end your day shift…

[satoruan]

FRIENDS WHO PLAY TOGETHER STAY TOGETHER ! ! — ARCANE

( tw ) f!reader. FF pairings. modern AU! masterbation. fingering. squirting. cunillings. dry humping. reader is kinda possessive in Vi’s. some yearning.

featuring. Violet, Caitlyn Kiramman & Mel Madarda

authors note. When you off that honey packet and ur home girl the only one in vicinity. Mel is so 🤭 I can’t she my type to a teeee. Anyways I’m about to go watch Act 2 WISH ME LUCK IM SCARED. Also idk how I feel about Kaits part I could do better 😔

VIOLET 

You and Vi were at another one of your friends' sleepovers. You didn't wanna come, you wanted to spend the Saturday just the two of you, alone. You hated sharing her attention, she was your best friend. You were each other's number one, why did you need other friends when you two were each other's everything. It was late now, almost everyone was sleeping or about to fall asleep when Vi crawled between the bodies of people to where you were laying. You didn’t notice until you felt the familiar embrace of her against your back. Despite yourself, you felt yourself relaxing against her body.  

“Are you still mad at me?” she whispered into your ear before placing a gentle kiss on your bare shoulder. “You know my favorite person. You have nothing to worry about.”  

“Yeah, whatever.” You grumbled. You weren't truly mad anymore but you knew what came next, what Vi did to reassure you that you were special to her. Her only best friend. You weren’t surprised when her hips rocked into your ass, when she pressed her tits against your back nor when her hand traveled underneath your oversized sleep shirt and cupped your breast. 

“Vi…” You sighed nuzzling into the arm underneath your head. She tightened her grip on your breast and rocked her hips into you. You push back harder and soon enough you guys find a rhythm. Your ass pushing down on her hips when she grinds up into you. Her callused palm grazes your nipple and you whine softly. She whimpers into your shoulder, finger going to your nipple when she pulls and twists. You wish her mouth was on you, you wish your mouth was on her. You turn your head to her “I love you the most. My favorite forever.”  

You feel her smile into your shoulder. “You're so beautiful, you know that?” translation: I love you too. 

MEL MEDARDA 

You couldn’t believe it. Your best friend’s tongue was inside of you. Licking you. Her lips were sucking on your clit, her teeth were biting your pussy lips. You could hear how wet you were—you could feel yourself leaking all over her face. “Mel!” You scream out into the dark room before slamming your hands over your own mouth. You don’t want anyone to see you—you don’t want her mother to see you, what a scene she would make. Seeing her daughter nose deep into her childhood best friend. Mel pulls her mouth off your clit with an embarrassingly loud pop. “Do you feel that? This is how you’re supposed to eat pussy darling.” She smiles when you just nod. Afraid that if you remove your hands from your mouth, you might confess something you don’t want.  

Plus, this was just a favor, strictly platonic, you were just friends. That’s why she was eating you out in the first place—you wanted to finally dip your toe into the dating scene but you were scared because you were inexperienced, you didn’t wanna leave your future partners disappointed in your nonexistence skills. And that’s where your best friend came in. Where you didn’t know anything about sex, she knew what felt like everything. Though you never saw her with anyone, she talked like she knew the ins and outs of men and women and she offered to teach you.  

“Now after you use your mouth and get them wet you wanna bring in your fingers, like this.” Mel grabs one of your thighs and pushes it down, giving her a better view of your dripping pussy before using her free hand and pushing a slender finger into you. You gasp. “I know you’ve fingered yourself before sweets, how many fingers have you shoved into this pretty pussy?” 

You whimper, hesitantly removing your hands. “T-two Melly.” You answer bashfully, using the nickname you gave her when you were children. She hums and adds another. You bite your lip, lower abdomen clenching when she curls them into your spongy g-spot. 

“Now pay attention to me alright?” She leans down to place a kiss on your pubs, leaving a trail of light kisses until she reaches your clit. She moves her hand out of you and a fast pace, fingers curling when she knuckles deep. You moan at the feeling of her hand pounding into you.  

She gives your clit a few kitten lips before wrapping her full lips around the swollen area. She bits hard enough for you to wince before she starts sucking. You feel yourself coming apart on her face before you can stop yourself. She hurriedly removes her fingers, mouth sucking you even harder when you feel liquid gush out of you. You grab the back of her head and scream. You can’t stop it, you don’t want to. You throw your thigh over her head and curl your foot into her back, still riding the high. When your pussy stops shooting the mysterious liquid out Mel’s fingers find themselves back inside, four this time. 

You feel tears collecting in the corner of your eyes, as she finger-fucks you. Mel pops back off your abused clit to whisper praises, good girl, you're doing so good, look at how well you take me, you feel heavenly, and when she goes back to playing with your clit you know you don’t want anyone to fuck you unless it’s her. Maybe you can ask her to teach you how to give hickeys next. 

CAITYLYN KIRAMMAN 

You were horny. Cait was horny. You both kept glancing at each other when you thought the other wasn’t looking, sussing out what the other was thinking. The movie you guys were watching was a rating away from being straight porn. When it was over you, both decided to call it a night. It was late she said. You guys had class tomorrow you said. When the lights turned off, you both said goodnight and laid down in your shared bed. You two were so close and loved being near each other that on the first day of the semester you pushed your twin beds together. Oh, how you were regretting that idea now. All you wanted to do was fuck yourself. You knew you weren’t going to fall asleep without an orgasm and so after twenty minutes when you thought Cait was asleep, you found your hand traveling into your boy shorts. You sighed in relief when your fingers grazed your throbbing clit. You rubbed it for a few seconds before shoving two fingers into yourself. 

That relief was short-lived when you heard a breathy moan that didn’t come from you. You tensed up and stopped. When you didn't hear anything—maybe she was making those noise in her sleep—you slowly started to move your fingers in and out, palm rubbing against your clit. You bite your lip to stifle a moan and turn onto your back. You could barely move your fingers in and out lying on your side. You part your legs and moan when you finally hit your G-spot. You're so horny but your imagination isn't cutting it. Opening your eyes you turn your head to find the outline of your best friend who was the star in some of your fantasies, her hourglass figure would for sure spark a fantasy. When your eyes adjust to the dark you're shocked to see Cait staring back at you, her blanket pooling at her hips when you could see her hand abruptly stop moving. Your Cait was masturbating too, in the same bed as you. A grin spreads along your face. 

“I-I’m not—”  

“I am.” You whisper, pushing your blanket off you. Her eyes immediately latch onto where your fingers are slowly pushing in and out. Your other hand comes up to your tank top where you push your shirt down. Your breasts spill out. Cait’s face turns into a tomato, eyes widening even more than they already are. She doesn't remove her gaze from your breasts when she starts fingering herself again. You watch her mouth part into a small O and her eyes roll to the back of her head. You imagine what she looks like riding your face and start to speed up. Your other hand twisting your nipples.  

“I-m gonna..” Cait whimper and spasms for a few seconds. You moan at the look on her face, so pleased with herself, and soon enough you're squeezing your eyes and coming too.  

[lqveharrington]

The Alchemy | D.M.

summary: Although Draco promised that he would keep your relationship a secret just for you, he can’t contain himself after winning the Hogwarts quidditch cup.

pairing: draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader

includes: FLUFF, established relationship (and a last name of Evergreen for the reader)

a/n: inspired by the olympics recently ❤️

When Draco asked you out in fourth year, you thought it was a joke. Sure, you were both acquainted due to your pure wizardry bloodline, but you were in Hufflepuff. The only time the other houses thought you were useful was when they wanted to sneak into the kitchen. So when he came up and sat down beside you when you were studying potions, you were disheartened.

“Malfoy, please don’t do this.” You sigh, rubbing your forehead. You were just starting to understand what ingredients made a truth serum.

“Do what? I’m asking you if you want to go to Hogsmeade together this weekend.” He spun the Malfoy signet ring adorning his hand.

You look up at him with tired eyes, “Did someone put you up to this?”

“What? No no, I—“ He cleared his throat, feeling his cheeks warm at how you were able to fluster him with even a small glance. “I’m really asking you to go on a date with me.”

You search his face for any indication of a lie, before biting your lip softly and looking down at your parchment. “Are you really?”

“I am.” Draco dropped his hand onto yours to stop your fidgeting with the quill.

You felt your own face heat up at the notion. He thumbed your palm softly as you stayed quiet, not minding his closeness. Finally, you looked up at him, “You have yourself a date, Malfoy.” He sent you a soft smile but before he could say anything else, you interrupted. “Please don’t let me down.”

Draco never let you down. Despite your earlier doubts, you saw how kind and thoughtful the Malfoy heir was underneath his hardened shell his father had built around him. In private, he was always attentive, loving, clingy — there wasn’t a moment where he was separated from you. In public, he had to rein in those feelings just for you.

Even when you started your seventh year at Hogwarts, you were still terrified what others at school would say about a Hufflepuff dating the Slytherin Prince. Sure, his parents and your parents knew, but not the entirety of Hogwarts. You had asked Draco to keep your relationship private until you were ready to face the reality of your relationship to the rest of the world. He begrudgingly agreed, respecting your wishes; but the need to kiss you in front of the entire student body to rightly claim that you were his was wavering.

Especially when it had been three years since you first started dating. And right now, you were currently hiding below the stands together as you greeted him with good luck kisses for his final quidditch match as a student in Hogwarts.

“I.” Kiss. “Love.” Kiss. “You.” Kiss. You say softly as he holds you close by your hips — smiling into all your kisses. “Good.” Kiss. “Luck.” Kiss.

“You’re killing me here, love.” Draco murmurs against your lips. He pulls away gently to look at your ever so loving gaze. He draws small hearts on you hip, “You done?”

“Never.” You kiss him again, hands cupping his jaw. “I want you to be stuck with me forever.”

He hums into the kiss as you thumb his cheeks softly, “I will after I win this game, my love.”

You separate again, grinning like a lovesick puppy. “Good luck, Dray. I’ll see you later.” You press one last kiss to his lips before leaving his arms and running up the Hufflepuff stands to cheer. You couldn’t deny that even after all these years he still made you giddy and red.

Draco shook his head with a soft smile only you could coax out of him. He walked out from the stands and hopped on his broom, ready in the air for his final match as Slytherin’s seeker. Cheers filled the stadium as the players took their place, captains shaking hands.

The final match for Slytherin and Gryffindor was probably the most anticipated all year round. Since it was also Harry Potter’s last game as seeker, and the two seekers were known as rivals, it was hyped up to be one of the best end matches of the season.

As the game progressed, Slytherin and Gryffindor were constantly tied. It was really up to the seekers to find the golden snitch to determine the winner. There were bets taking place in the house stands, mind fixated on earning a few galleons for the last time. For the Hufflepuff stands, they were a house divided. Many cheered for scarlet and gold while the other half cheered for green and silver.

You didn’t mind the division between your house. After all, you only watched the games for Draco. Your friends were cheering for the Gryffindors whilst you carried the small Slytherin flag in your hands — eyes trained on the blonde high above the game itself. The second you blinked from the blazing sun, Draco was soaring after the golden snitch, Harry close behind and eventually flying right next to him.

The shouts from the stands only fueled the seekers’ attention to the flying gold. Draco and Harry were chasing in circles after the snitch, attention focused on nothing else even as the bludger zoomed past them.

You held your breath as they both reach out for the snitch. Your friend held your shoulder in anticipation, watching the two closely. Before you could register what happened, she gasped and shook your shoulders in frustration.

“I lost ten galleons to that!” She sighed heavily as Draco flashed the golden snitch in the air.

The rush of the win made you scream happily with the other Hufflepuffs and houses cheering for the Slytherin team. You wear clapping your hands as the team began flying around in victory. You watched as Draco flew around the stands more as the rest of the Slytherin team settled on the grounds. His eyes scanned the stadium until they lit up when they saw you at the very front of the Hufflepuff stands — waving your Slytherin flag with pride.

“Seems like Malfoy is off showing the last snitch he’ll catch for the Slytherin quidditch team! But we all want to know where the trophy is!” The third year announcer spoke, voice casted across the stadium.

You smiled at Draco softly when you finally met his eyes. And before you knew it, he flew right over to you and cupped your face, kissing you senselessly. You grinned into the kiss as you held his cheeks, the shouts and screams from your housemates blending in your ears.

“Aw, quite a beautiful way to celebrate the win. Don’t you think so, McGonagall? Honestly, I wasn’t expecting Malfoy and Evergreen— Ow, sorry.” The third year announcer spoke once more, rubbing the spot the professor lightly hit them with a newspaper.

You part from Draco with a blinding smile, “I think I agree, this is a beautiful way to celebrate.” You say quietly only for him to hear, pressing quick kisses to his lips.

“I’m proud of you, love.” Draco nudges your nose with his to gently stop your kisses for a second — even though he did want more.

“Me? You just won the quidditch cup for your house!” You laugh while wrapping your arms behind his neck, careful in trying not to pull him off his broom.

He rubbed the apples of your cheeks, “You just let me kiss you in front of the entire student body… I think that’s more important.” He pulled you in for another mind searing kiss, making you smile helplessly.

“AGAIN?” The third year announcer shouted into the microphone once more. “Is there—“

“Alright, we’re done announcing, boys and girls.” Professor McGonagall spoke and shut the speakers off; although she was quite happy for the couple.

You giggled as he pulled you into a hug. “I love you.”

Draco pressed kisses to your cheek repeatedly, “I love you more.”

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[nezuscribe]

𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you find yourself in a marriage that you never wanted in the first place. your husband seems to hate you and you begin to wonder if anything you used to think of him was even true. who would have though a marriage to gojo satoru would be so difficult?

warnings: 18+ mdni, arranged marriage, misunderstandings and just not talking shit out, mentions of cheating, slight angst (with comfort), eating out (fem! receiving), fingering, gojo doesn't really know how to husband for some of it

word count: 10.9K (whoops)

note: part two is up! i really had a lot of fun writing this so reblogs and comments are always appreciated! as always, thank you to @jadeisthirsting for beta reading <3

jjk masterlist

never did you think that you’d be stuck in a marriage to a man who didn’t love you, but there’s a first for everything. 

you should count yourself lucky that he’s not old and bald. he’s pretty. in fact, he’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. his eyes are the bluest, bluer than the sky. his hair mirrors the winter snows, and his back ripples with muscles whenever he fights. 

his agility is unlike any other man. he fights swiftly and cleanly, never taking more than a couple minutes to get rid of whatever it was that stood in his way. he’s charming with his words (or so you’ve heard), and he knows how to make somebody swoon if he really wants them to. 

and he seems to despise you.

you had known gojo since you were a child, the two of you running around each other's fields as you chased him with your wooden sword. you remembered watching him in training, wishing him good luck whenever he went on a hunt. you could even remember how he would stutter whenever he tried to talk, something he must have worked on because he never seemed to stutter anymore. 

he was always nice to you, his cheeks rosy whenever you kissed him goodbye. he was kind back then, grinning brightly whenever he saw you. 

but as time grew and you with it, and it was only a matter of years before the two of you went your separate ways. it didn’t help that once he turned thirteen he had to leave for training and fighting in whatever it was that was needed of him, but you had hoped that he would be able to write back. 

you would send him letters whenever you could, it was tradition whenever the two of you were separated for too long to do so. each letter telling him about new experiences and embarrassing things that happened in your life, but he never responded. you liked to send one every week, sometimes including little tokens you thought he might enjoy. but you stopped sending them after the first two years and stopped asking about his whereabouts after three. 

but you were hopeful that when you saw him that night so many months ago, he’d be civil with you. you were nervous, sure, but who could blame you? you had recently gotten news that his time to serve his clan was over and that he was finally back home. it wasn’t as though the two of you had left on bad graces, so you were hopeful that he would at least remember you. but he could barely meet your eyes whenever you tried to catch him from across the room, acting as if you had never existed. 

he looked so different since the last time you had seen him. he was taller than most of the people in the room, his white hair just as bright as it used to be. he had gained muscle mass almost everywhere, and you felt yourself wondering just how much training he had to go through to look this way. you could see him talking to a girl, a smile on his face as he tilted his head to look at her better. you gave him some time to socialize, not wanting to intrude on anything. 

after an hour you decided that it was long enough, and tried to weave your way through the crowd to get to him. you had tried to call out to him, waving to him despite your mother quickly shoving your hand down, saying how improper it was. he heard you and you knew that he was purposely ignoring you, so you began to feel heavy-hearted after a couple of attempts at trying to catch his attention, eventually giving up. 

and now, despite you wanting to, you can’t even blame him for hating you. 

ever since your mother caught you, alone with him, a man you hadn’t seen in so long, she had swiftly and promptly proposed the idea of marriage only a few days later. it was really to save face for the two families, but it helped that this marriage would unify the two clans. 

you were sure he had ladies lined up to marry him, and you weren’t somebody he was actively trying to pursue. you didn’t even know if he was in love with somebody else if he shared a connection with a girl who was surely not you and cursed you for taking that away from him. 

not that it mattered now. 

all you wanted was to reconcile, to catch up on all the things happening in your lives. you wanted to hear all the stories he must have racked up over the years, not for this to happen. all the things he wanted for himself were ripped away because of one night from one simple act of kindness, and so you couldn’t find it in yourself to hate him for the way he acted.

you rarely come down for dinner whenever he’s there, but when you do, you feel those eyes turn icy, tracking your every movement till you sit down opposite of him. he doesn’t say much, just mutters a quiet “good evening” and you’re sure he’s only doing it so the maids don’t start to gossip. 

whenever your hand brushes his you feel him snap back, flexing his hand as though your touch burned him. he rarely came by to ask you about how you felt, and so you stopped trying to act kindly towards him if he didn’t want anything to do with it.

any semblance of romance you had dreamed of as a young girl quickly dissipated when you realized your husband wanted nothing to do with you, so you didn’t try to pursue any sort of love, deciding it’d be easier if he just did his part and you did yours so the two clans wouldn’t worry. 

he was always gone, which might be the best for the two of you. when he’s not training new men then he’s gone in a hunt. if he’s not in a hunt then he’s somewhere in his endless home, hiding away. 

you don’t know if he does this for him, for your sake, or for everybody else. 

“did you see your husband this morning?” one of your maids said excitedly as she tugged the undergarments over your raised arm, a gleeful smile on her face as she rambled about something gojo had done. you couldn’t help but return a smile of your own, although it didn’t quite meet your eyes. 

“yes, briefly. he’s busy with having to worry about the feast,” which wasn’t a total lie. you’d seen him hurriedly brush past you, quickly glancing at you as if he had forgotten you were his wife. you felt your chest tighten up with the way he glanced at your hand, and then quickly left. 

it was only a few nights away and you knew that it was the only buzz of news anybody seemed to talk about. unfortunately, for you, it meant having to socialize with other clans. you were fine with that aspect, you’d been doing it since you were young, but this time they had a right to be nosey. you knew there would be endless questions asked about the honeymoon stage of your marriage, to which you had no answer. 

sure, you’d been making up answers to hypothetical questions, but you didn’t know what gojo would be answering with, so you were only praying some of your responses would line up. 

for a night the two of you would have to pretend to be husband and wife, and while the people around you knew you were anything, you knew you had to commit to the role for the sake of you and your family’s dignity. 

but all this worrying isn’t good for your head, you could already feel the pang as you squeezed your eyes to try and get rid of it. you tried to move on from your worries, going to comment on her necklace, it seemed new, but a knock interrupted you. the two of your heads popped up, looking at where the sound came from. 

“come in!” you called out, buttoning up the last bits of your top as you thanked myra. she nodded, bowing as she went to open the door. you could hear her faint footsteps, not bothering to look up as she greeted the person behind. you guessed it was franchesca coming with the fabric samples. 

“sir,” you heard myra say, and your head swirled around, only to see the topic of your conversation make his way into your room, excusing your maid with a swift motion of his hand. she glanced once at you and then to him, ducking her head as she left, closing the door behind her as she left you two alone. 

you felt heat prickle at the back of your neck as he looked at you and then to your room. the two of you slept separately, as per your request the first night. you couldn’t bear the agonizing silence between the two of you, and he obliged. 

he was dressed for sparring. he had a loose-fitting tunic on, and pants that would allow him to move freely and without constraint. it was in moments like these that you were reminded of the fact that gojo was the strongest warrior that any of the clans had seen, that the child who once splurged on sugar in his tea was capable (and has done so before) of taking down entire armies. 

he had matured so much since what you last remembered from him. he no longer acted rashly nor spoke without thinking about what it was he wanted to say. but you still saw him eating sweets with the same fervor he did as a kid, and it never failed to make you smile, hiding it behind your hand so nobody could hear your quiet giggle. 

it had been a while since it was just the two of you, alone, and all you could think about was that night. your cheeks heated up just thinking about it, and it seemed that gojo could tell your discomfort with the way he cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair as he began to speak. 

“good morning,” he started, his eyes darting around, never setting on yours. it was funny if it didn’t cause your heart to hurt irrevocably, at how the strongest warrior in all the land could barely look at his wife. 

if only you knew.

“good morning.” you offered him a quick, disingenuous smile, moving around until you found your vanity, rummaging through your laid-out earrings as you kept your back to him, not trusting your face to give you away if you were to look at him for too long. 

you heard him take in an audible breath, but he continued whatever it was he wanted to say. 

“with the feast coming up, i want to clear some things with you,” you turned around, looping the earrings in as you nodded for him to continue. it was such a shame he was so stunning, effortlessly attractive as the sun caught off his cheekbones, bouncing off of his chest. he rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, and you wondered if being here was just as painfully awkward for him as it was for you. 

“we should act like we’re…” he trailed off and you felt yourself itching to leave, knowing what he meant without having to say it. 

“in love?” you finished and he slowly nodded, gnawing on his lip as you brushed past him, going to find the mirror so you could adjust your jewelry. you could see him fidgeting in the corner, and for once you could see a hint of nervousness and unease on his features. 

and a part of you hurt. you would never admit out loud that you harbored a crush on him for as long as you could remember. it hurt knowing that you acting like you were in love was perhaps the lost genuine form of love you could show. 

“what if they ask about the night we met?” you ask after a couple of seconds, looking up from what you were doing. deep down, you knew somebody was bound to ask. even if it was just your mother who had caught the two of you alone in that garden, the news of it somehow spread (she was always one to talk). 

he scratches his head, shrugging as he eventually settles on an idea.

“just tell them the truth.” 

the truth. 

tell them how he followed you after you had run outside, sick to your stomach after a man, who was as old as your father, had introduced himself as a possible suitor. how gojo, the most ruthless warrior in all the land, had carefully put his hands on your back as you retched, offering you a towel he had fetched from inside to clean yourself up. 

tell them how you hadn’t seen him in years but the first thing you had done was to hug him tightly. how his hands wrapped around your back as though they were the only things keeping you afloat. perhaps they were. 

tell them how he murmured words in your hair to bring you back to reality, his thumb running up and down your arms to calm you down. how it seemed like even though it had been years since you two last saw each other, it felt so right, so normal, to be back in his arms. 

tell them how he had looked at you with such worry, such care, unlike anybody else had looked at you, and you for once felt safe in somebody’s arms. 

tell them how your mother found you two in such a compromising position, with your head nestled in his chest as he tried his very best to soothe your cries. it was humiliating and embarrassing to be caught with a man you had only seen back in your teenage years, and especially so in such a vulnerable position. 

you shake your head, scoffing at the idea, “i’ll just come up with something,” was your answer and he nods along, realizing how the story would be too private to share with people you barely knew.

“and we need a reason for why,” he cleared his throat once again, pink dusting on his cheeks as his eyes dropped to your stomach. your eyes met his in the mirror, and one of your eyebrows raised, “well, you’re not exactly looking like you’re carrying a child at the moment.” 

you quickly looked away, the tension in the room increasing as you moved away from the mirror, doing anything you could to keep your hands occupied. you flushed at the comment, your throat drying up as you glanced at your stomach.

the two of you have barely touched, much less been intimate with each other. you were glad he hadn’t forced the idea onto you, instead, leaving it to you to bring up the topic. you only talked about it, once, the night of the marriage, and then never again. you knew that it would have to happen eventually, but you couldn’t do it right now, not with your state of mind. 

you scrambled to say something. in all honesty, you had been dreading this question. you hadn’t been answering any of the letters your mother sent, and you knew people were expecting to hear the news of a pregnancy. 

“we’ll just say we’ve been so busy and preoccupied with the politics of marriage that we couldn’t… consummate.” you offered and he just shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as if this was the biggest inconvenience to him. 

you knew that this marriage was brought upon quickly and before either of you could object to it, but at least you tried to hide it away. if only he hadn’t acted so rashly that night, his hands on your shoulders, eyes bewildered as they racked over your figure. if only he had been more careful, or you were smarter in picking some place to be more concealed, you wouldn’t be put in this position. 

but neither of you was thinking ahead, and here you were. but he was certainly making sure that you knew of his contempt for this arrangement far more than you were. it was irritating, it scratched at your skin and ate away at your mind the more you saw each other.

“look,” he couldn’t take his eyes off of you, off of the way you were fiddling with the ring he had delicately placed on your hand so many weeks ago, “i can come up with whatever they ask, so just try your best to do the same.” you say, your voice tinged with anger, the ring on your finger acting as an anchor to the depths of the sea with the way it weighed down your movements, feeling your chest swell as he stayed silent, watching you as you opened the door. 

“i don’t-”

“um, i won’t be joining you for dinner, so don’t wait on me…i apologize, i need to work on some things for the feast…have a good day.” you swiftly murmured, shutting him in your own room as you left, your heart thumping erratically in your chest as you almost ran down the hallway. 

you had no idea how you were going to persuade the masses that this marriage was working if you couldn’t even persuade yourself. 

---

the feast of clans came earlier than you expected. 

you found yourself perched at the end of the table, gojo next to you, your stiff bodies mirroring each other as the people around you joyously helped themselves to the vast variety of food offered. 

you could barely touch the meal in front of you, your stomach churning uncomfortably with the sheer number of people that surrounded you. back home, you hated these feasts, opting to leave after a couple of bites and finish the rest of what you could pocket in your room, but here, as the clan leader's wife, you had no such luxury. 

“are you not hungry?” you looked to your side, gojo staring at your plate and then to you, his eyes squinting as he tried to decipher what you were feeling.

“i can’t eat,” you murmured, playing with your utensils as you swallowed thickly, “i don’t do well in large crowds.” 

he nodded once, looking out into the sea of bodies as he inched a little bit closer to you. he was donned in expensive fabrics, although his hair still messily fell all over. the candle that was lit in front of you had different hues of oranges and reds bouncing off of his pale skin, and if you didn’t know any better, the blush on his nose and cheeks could have been from the frigid winds from outside. 

“i’ll have myra save you a plate,” he said, giving you a curt smile as he went back to eating. 

you were momentarily taken aback by his comment, but tried not to show it, going back to fidgeting with your ring as you looked at the sea of people. nobody had thankfully come up to you and bombarded you with questions, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t going to eventually happen. 

“thank you,” you say, glancing at him and then back to your plate. 

“anything for my wife,” he replies. it’s only for show, you remind yourself, after all, when was the last time he referred to you as such? 

“gojo,” an old man had walked up to your table, his face lined with wrinkles and a beard, dressed in orange as he offered gojo his hand to shake, “i’m glad to see that you finally settled down.”

gojo blushed deeply, trying to offer him a smile as he motioned to you. 

“it’s hard to resist marriage when such a woman offers it.” he says, and you feel your eyes widen as you try to laugh off his statement. 

“yes,” the old man chuckles, eyeing the two of you. he looked familiar, and you were sure you had seen him around these sorts of gatherings before, “it was only a matter of time before it happened. we all knew just how much you liked her back when you were children.”

the two of you sputtered on your coughs, and you felt a little smile grow on your face as gojo did what he could to usher the man away. 

you could tell with the way he shifted uncomfortably in his seat that gojo wasn’t expecting that, and before you could realize what you were doing you found yourself talking. 

“i’m not a fan of feasts.” you quickly said, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them. it’s not like you felt you owed him an explanation, but you said it regardless. 

gojo looked up from his plate, grabbing his cup so he could wash down his bite. 

“any feast?” he asked, and you could feel the way the air shifted. he was glad you brought up a different topic. 

“one’s as big as this,” you twisted your ring back and forth on your finger subconsciously, “i get nervous in big crowds.”

“i remember,” a small smile grew on his face as he thought back to when the two of you were children, “you would hide under the tables and force me to come with you.” 

you chuckled, blood rushing to your ears at the fact that he remembered this about you. it was the bare minimum of what you remembered from him, but you had convinced yourself that he had washed every memory of your last selves from his mind. 

a rush of distant memories came to your head; nights spent under the tables, laughing as you two tried to keep your voices down as you tried to dodge the feet. you could still hear his whispers of staying quiet, trying to sneak out so he could smuggle in some pastries for you to eat.

“the adults scared me; they were always loud and insistent on asking personal questions.”

“like they are now?” he replied back, a tilt in his voice as you nodded feverishly. 

“yes!” you covered your mouth with your hand as you let out a laugh, a genuine one as you tried to look as put together as you could, “i swear, it’s even worse than when we were young. just the other day a wet nurse came to me and told me the best positions to get into when giving birth!” it really was a mortifying moment, your eyes darting all around as the old lady even took it upon herself to demonstrate the movements, but gojo didn’t seem to mind, laughing along with you. his eyes twinkled as they took in your giggly state, years since he had last seen you like this. 

“i feel like i should apologize,” he starts, having to cover his own infectious smile as he ducks down his head in shame, “i had her sent up to your chambers.”

your mouth dropped open in shock, lightly smacking his arm as he grinned at the look on your face.

“to mortify me so that i would never leave?” your thumb moves your ring back and forth and gojo watches you as you do it. 

“you seemed sick at breakfast, but i guess she thought it was a different sort of sickness.” gojo tells you as he cuts off some of his meat, not knowing just how much his words affected you. 

you had forgotten how simple and easy conversations were with gojo. although this was under a guise to fool people, you felt at ease with him, as if you didn’t have to be on guard with your emotions when he was around. 

“do you still want to hide under the table now?” he asked a couple of seconds later, chewing on a potato as you shrugged, looking around before your lips grew into an apologetic smile. 

“…yes,” you admitted bashfully and he smiled at your honest response. 

“if you want to hide, i’ll-”

“satoru!” a booming voice interrupted your endless spiral of thoughts as the two of you glanced upwards at the sound, “it’s been too long!” 

a man with hair as dark as night and a smile wider than any ocean had come up to your table. he was the first one to do so all night, but gojo didn’t seem bothered by it. he seemed to smile, crescents forming around his eyes as he took his friend's hand.

“too long,” he emphasized with a charming grin, motioning to you and then back to the man in front of you as if he suddenly remembered the two of you and never met, “suguru, this is my wife, y/n. y/n, this is one of my oldest friends.” 

you extended your hand outwards and the man, suguru, took it, placing a soft kiss on the back of it as he shot you a playful smile. he wasn’t at the wedding, but then yet again, it was a rather quick one. the only people who had attended were your families. 

“it’s a pleasure to meet you.” he greeted, and you nodded in agreement, sitting back down next to gojo. you felt his long fingers reach for yours, enveloping your hand in his as your heart sputtered at the touch. 

“likewise,” you answered and the man grinned politely before he slightly tilted his head, looking at the two of you sitting next to each other. 

“he’s not bothering you, is he? i know satoru can be fiendish when he wants to be, so call for me and i’ll take care of him.” he teased and you could only smile tightly and laugh along, gojo’s fingers slightly tightening around yours as he moved your hand to rest on his thigh. 

“i can take care of him when he’s fiendish. i just have to take the sugar away, right?” suguru snorted and gojo glared, but it was playful the way he looked at you. 

his hands were warmer than you would have expected. you could feel the indents of calluses on his fingertips, could feel his thumb moving back and forth on your skin in a calming sort of manner. he didn’t look over at you as he did it, playing it off as second nature. 

“i apologize for not having much time to get to know you, but i have something i need to talk to gojo about. would you mind? it will only take a minute?” he asked, and gojo let go of your hand at the time of his friend's voice. you had to control your urge to roll your eyes, shifting in your seat as you motioned for suguru to talk to your husband, watching as he stood from his seat, leaving with the man as they went somewhere a little more secluded. 

you watched as gojo leaned down to hear whatever it was that suguru was whispering in his ear, pulling back with a frown on his face. he snapped something that only caused suguru to reel back, cast a quick glance at you, and then shake his head in clear annoyance. 

you saw gojo look up, his eyes landing on somebody from across the room, and you followed his stare, only to land on a girl. 

she wore a dark yellow tunic and skirt, colors from a neighboring clan. you hadn’t seen her before, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t known. just one look at the men surrounding her and you could pick up on their lovesick expressions. 

she motioned for gojo to come to her with a bend of her finger, slyly brushing her hair out of her face to make it look as though it was nothing, exiting from the dining area and vanishing into one of the halls. 

you looked down in case either of the men glanced over to see if you were staring. your eyes pierced through the meat on your plate, bile rising up your throat. 

you gave yourself some time, counting up to a minute before you looked back to where suguru and gojo were, finding suguru standing alone. you looked at where the girl was and saw a flash of white hair before it disappeared, your heart sinking as you glanced back at suguru, only to find him looking at you. 

you looked back at your plate, picking up a knife and fork as you stabbed the meat. you couldn’t keep anything down but it’s best to pretend.

---

gojo didn’t return until half an hour later, and you refused to talk to him. 

“did anybody bombast you with questions?” he teased, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. he didn’t seem to pick up on your darkened mood as your fingers dug into your dress. 

“i had a woman ask me if you had disappeared with your mistress, but that was it.” you remarked, silence filling the void between the two of you and you realized that all you had thought of him was crumbling down. 

you didn’t care for your image anymore, giving curt answers to any questions somebody had asked. you could feel his stare on the side of your face but you didn’t humor him in looking over, focusing on your plate instead. 

so what if he was seeing somebody else? you would have been naive to think that he wouldn’t wander. the two of you barely touched each other. 

once all the guests had left over the course of the following days, you did everything you could to steer away from gojo. 

you no longer came down for breakfast or dinner, choosing to eat in your own quarters. if he wanted to have his own secrets, he could do whatever he pleased. 

though you rarely saw suguru after the feast, he did try to talk to you the morning after it took place. he cornered you after you had left from breakfast, his once playful demeanor turned serious as you tried your best to end the conversation. 

“what you saw last night-”

“is none of my business,” you finished, raising your hand as you cut him off, “if gojo has his own private matters to deal with, i’m indifferent to them all.” 

“you know that’s not what it was.” his hand hovered over your arm, careful not to touch you but not wanting you to leave either. 

“i ruined his life, didn’t i?” you tilted your head a bit in questioning. after all, that’s all you could hear from the women who gossiped as they folded the laundry, or behind the hands of the girls who watched you and gojo interact and the mothers who wanted their daughters to be set up with him only sneered at you from across the tables. 

“you…where’d you get that from?” his brows scrunched together in confusion as you scoffed, hoping he couldn’t see the tears welling in the corner of your eyes at the sting of your own words. 

“i can see it on his face. if gojo wants to have his own affairs, he can have them. it’s not like we’re in love. hopefully, i find my own way out so that the two of us look happier and this marriage looks somewhat presentable to the public.” 

you didn’t want to see the look on his face, but you’re sure he reported this all back to gojo because he didn’t look at you once after it. 

you heard from a maid a week later that he was gone for another meeting with a clan, a southern one from what you picked up, and that you should probably go and wish him some luck. 

leading up to the night of his departure you anxiously paced around your room, your feet padding on the floor as your nightgown swished behind you. 

you hadn’t talked to gojo at all that day, and purposefully so. 

it was petty, you know it was, to not want to see him, but a part of you still aches when you look back on that night. at how he didn’t explain where he was even after you asked, at how it was suguru he had sent to fix his dirty work for him. 

“y/n?” a muffled voice came from outside your door. 

your head shot up at the familiar sound, quietly dragging yourself out from your bed as you grabbed the candle, hovering on the other side as you waited for him to say something else. 

“are you awake?” you heard a soft thud from his side, almost as if his head or arm had hit the door. 

you didn’t answer, still, waiting. 

“i’m leaving tomorrow and i wanted to see you before i left.” your heart skipped at his words, careful not to make a sound as you near the door. 

“if you’re sleeping i won’t bother you anymore but if you’re not,” you could hear the old stutter he had coming back, his words meshing together as he tried to regain control, “and you’re choosing to stay quiet, i…” he sighed, his forehead thumping down as he rested it on the door, “i wanted to apologize for the feast. i shouldn’t have left you alone, and if you’d open the door, i would explain why…” he could see the flicker of the candle from underneath the crack, and saw the way it blew away, darkness following suit. 

you walked back to your bed, turning your back to the door as you set the candle down on your table. 

“goodnight,” his voice was quieter than before, and you felt guilty, but pushed the bitter feeling down.

a couple of seconds later you heard him let out a sigh of defeat, his footsteps leading away from your bedroom as you curled into yourself, hoping you would let your heart stop taking control of what your head should be doing. 

---

gojo didn’t return for a while, and you grew more impatient by the day. 

it normally took him and his men a week at maximum, and once two had passed, you felt yourself growing uneasy. 

you tried to act as passive as you could, but even myra could pick up on your growing apprehension. you have never voiced your worries over your husband before, but she knew this wasn’t like any other time. 

when you went to bed, the only thing you could dream about was that night, your brain re-running the images as you tossed and turned. 

“are you alright?” he asked, his hands on your elbows as you could barely speak, your blurry vision impairing your sight. you could only see a mop of white in the darkness, your stomach betraying you as you tried to keep the sick down. 

“i don’t feel too good,” you mumbled, trying to put some distance between the two of you as you pushed him away, only to feel him coming closer as he placed a hand on your forehead and then to your cheeks. 

“you’re burning up,” he muttered under his breath, guiding you gently so that you wouldn’t trip over your feet. 

“i’m sorry, you can go back inside, i don’t want to keep you out here.” you were slurring your words as you tried not to throw up on him. you wiped at your eyes so that you could see him better, only to reel back in utter shock to see the face of your childhood friend frowning down at you. 

your mouth formed in the shape of his name, going to say something else, before you hunched over, feeling his strong hands pat your back and keep the hair out of your face as you felt your world tilt on its axis. 

you ate your dinner at the table, eyeing his empty seat as you tried to shove his last night out of your mind. you shouldn’t feel this way, especially about a man who feels nothing towards you, but your little heart was churning in its confines the more you let yourself think about it.

sitting in the same spot where the feast took place only brought back the venomous taste in your mouth, and so you pretended that you were back home, eating somewhere without the worry of your life weighing you down like a thousand weights on your shoulders. 

myra tried her best to distract you, but she could see the distant look in your eyes, how your voice never seemed too genuine. she began to worry for you, but it seemed like your mind was fixed on one thing. 

until you found yourself pacing around your room, just like you were the night you last heard of him, playing with the ring on your finger as the moon carded through your window. 

“my lady,” you heard myra through the door, her voice shaky and a bit more on edge than usual, “there’s-” but before she could finish it slammed open, revealing the man you’d been biting your nails over, standing in the flesh.

his eyes were a dark blue, squinted as they looked right through you. his chest heaved as he looked like he was trying to catch his breath. you could see the streaks of blood that lined his usually clean clothes, the red that stained his cheeks and jaw. 

he looked feral, and it was throwing you off balance. 

“out.” he snapped at myra, and before you could scold him for his tone she fled, the door shutting roughly behind her. 

the two of you could only stare at each other. you didn’t know what to think after weeks of uselessly worrying over him, not knowing about his well-being, to see him here, in front of you, but looking different than he ever had. 

“are you alright?” 

you could barely get it out, the works sticking on your tongue as you took a tentative step forward, not knowing what to do with his state of being. 

he eyed the blood on his shirt, wiping at his cheeks as if he had forgotten it was there. he didn’t look too dirty, less dirty than one would expect from a five week endeavor through the woods, but he didn’t look too good either. 

“you were awake.” is all he says, his chest still moving up and down as though he couldn’t breathe properly. 

“that night i came by, you were awake. i saw your candle, i heard your footsteps.” he says this as though it’s fighting its way out of his mouth as if it’s all he could think about to tell you. 

“i,” you pretend that you don’t care, shrugging, “i wasn’t up to talk.” 

“you were with suguru.” he snaps, his tone shocking you, and he steps back as if he had shocked himself. he jammed his palms into his eyes, tilting his head upwards before he looked back at you. 

“for five weeks you were all i could think about. i wanted to come back, i wanted to tell you what i felt but we kept running into issues with other tribes and clans.” 

“what could you possibly think about that occupied your mind for five weeks?” you so desperately wanted your voice to come out strong but it sounded weak, as though you were hanging off of his every syllable. 

“you had told suguru that you were going to find your…own way out,” he took a step forward, and here you could see the scratches on his chest, the cuts on his arms, “i was praying to every god there was that you hadn’t found somebody in these past weeks, that you hadn’t…”

you could barely believe his words, not knowing if you should feel offended, shocked, worried, or a mix of all those three. 

“what business would it be to you if i did?” you hate that this was the response you settled on. hurt flashed across his face but he tried to regain his composure. 

“you are my wife-”

“and you are my husband!” you snapped and watched as he was momentarily taken aback by your outburst, but you continued your nose flaring, “you cannot argue with me on this when you left with some girl in the middle of our feast!” you felt all your emotions finally pouring out and you had no control over them, “everybody was talking about it, everybody was looking at me in pity!” your voice cracked, tears poking at your eyes as you pointed an accusatory finger at him. 

gojo looked down, running a hand through his hair as he pointed a finger back. 

“if you had let me explain myself, you would have known that she was trying to do what you thought she was. i left as quickly as i could but you would barely look at me!” you wanted to rip your hair out, cursing yourself for ever feeling any sort of worry for this man. 

“i know that this marriage was the last thing you wanted but at least you could play the part of a husband! you didn’t send a single note, anything to tell us that you were okay, that you were alive!” you heaved, fidgeting with your ring as you wiped at your cheeks, “and you come back here accusing me of adultery? all everybody could talk about was the fact that you were warming somebody else’s bed! they said a meeting never takes this long unless something…somebody else comes up.” your voice wobbles at the end, and you find yourself furiously rubbing your tears away, hiding your sniffing as though that would do anything.  

he paused upon seeing you cry, his face falling as he tried to step forward but you angled yourself away from him, hoping he’d get the hint. 

he wanted to hold you, to tell you that all the rumors you were hearing were false and that the only room he had left in his heart was for you. but he couldn’t blame you for feeling or thinking this way. hell, he was so sure that he’d open the door to find another man comforting you that he didn’t even stop to consider what must have been going through your head all these weeks. 

“one of the clans tried to attack us, and we weren’t ready for it. that is why we took so long.” 

you sniffle again, not caring for his explanation although it did soothe a part of your past self. 

“you could have at least sent a letter telling me what happened,” you fidget with your ring, your thumb running over the diamond, “everybody asked me questions that i should have had answers to, but i had no idea where you were or what you were doing…” he nods, his lips pressed into a thin line as he agreed with you. 

“you're right,” his voice was thick with emotion, the words slurring in his mouth as he found himself anchored in place, not knowing what to do. but you were rambling, your thoughts going on and on and you couldn’t stop yourself. 

“…but i know you don’t like letters, so the least you could have done was send a parchment saying i’m alive or something like that.” you rub at your nose again, feeling like all the weeks of worry we’re coming to a standpoint. 

he looked confused now, if anything, and scratched at his jaw. 

“what do you mean?” 

you scoff at the audacity, rolling your eyes as you feel anger prickle at your skin. 

“you never once responded to any of my letters. in my eyes, that must mean you have some sort-”

“letters? what letters?” 

you glance at him, taking in his shaking form. 

“come on gojo,” you feel embarrassed as he urges you to speak, having to spell it out for him, his eyes pleading with you to continue, “the ones from when you left for training.”

his mouth opens and then closes, looks at the ground and then back up to you as he shakes his head. you could hear your fireplace crackling in the background. the only sounds circling the room were the pops of ember and your breathing. 

“i…” he feels like there’s cotton in his mouth, hoping that you’re lying, “i never got any letters.” 

the fire crackled once again and you could almost hear a pin drop as you shook your head vehemently at his statement. 

“n-no, no you did. i wrote to you every week, i sent one every week for two years and you never responded and my mother said that you must have forgotten about me…” and you trail off, the tears in your eyes stoning as he furiously wipes at his own eyes, and for the first time since you had seen him fall down when he was a kid, you saw his own tears staining his cheeks. 

“nobody gave me your letters. i thought that you,” he takes a deep breath, tongue poking inside his cheek as he tried to control himself, “i thought that you didn’t care for me anymore.” 

you hug your midsection, your emotions running wild at his words. 

“i was under the impression that you hated me.” you admit, and he looks as though you stabbed him through the heart. if only others could see the powerful warrior now, stripped bare to his conscience and all he could think about was you. 

“why…why would you think such a thing?” you two inch closer without knowing it, longing to touch each other, wanting to know that the other was really there and that this wasn’t a figment of your imaginations. 

“gojo, you could barely looked at me that night at the gala and now it seems as though you, well, look at you - you’re flushed!” you’re grasping at straws, motioning towards his face,  twinged with pink as you rub at your nose, “you seem angry whenever i am near-” 

“the only person i am angry at is myself.” gojo whispers, but his voice echoed around the expanse of your skull. 

“yes, i’m aware,” you feel cold despite the fire in the corner, your tone carrying an air of know as you scorn, “i know the last thing you expected by comforting me was a marriage but-” 

“you think i am angry because i married you?” he was moving closer, his hands shaking, his eyes wet. you could see the ring on his finger glow in the dim light of the fireplace, how it shined brighter than any of the night skies, “the only good thing that has happened to me these last few months was being able to introduce myself as your husband. i know that i stripped you bare of any love you may have had for any other man, but call me selfish for feeling glad that i did.” 

you could barely focus on what was happening, his words sinking deep into your skin, going to your bones. 

“i told myself that you had forgotten about me those years i left. when i saw you that night i was so sure you had come with the intention of finding a suitor that i didn’t want to distract you, but then i saw that man come up to you…” and he couldn’t finish, choking on his words as he stuttered, and you saw a glimpse of the boy you had fallen in love with so long ago. 

“and i followed you out. if i knew that simply being alone with you would have gotten me married to you then i would have cornered you in a closet the moment i saw you enter the dining hall.” 

a tear rolls down your chin, splattering on the ground beneath you as you struggle to make sense of what he was saying. it felt as though the months of being married to him were weeks spent pacing around your own rooms, thinking the same worried thoughts, and not having the strength to confront each other about it. 

“you…you don’t hate me?” your voice is timid, almost not believing yourself as the statement tumbled out. gojo had the audacity to laugh a bit, shaking his head as strands of his hair fell into his face. 

“my every waking moment is spent thinking of you. when i was in training, you were all i could dream about, hoping that when i’d come home i could finally have you to myself. 

“you have control over my emotions, my mind, my soul, and i cursed myself for taking away your options for a husband, but the only thing i’ve wanted to do these past few weeks was to hold you in my arms. to tell you just how deeply i yearn for your love back.” 

he wiped at his cheeks, glistening in the faint light. he looked angelic, despite the grime and blood that decorated his clothing. you didn’t want to think about the men he had killed just to come back, to come back to you, and the thought of ever losing him hurt you more than when you spent nights wondering why he never responded to any of your letters. 

you couldn’t stop your feet from leading you toward him, and you could only watch as he met you in the middle, catching you with all his strength, holding you as if you weighed nothing, and it only took a few seconds before your lips collided. 

it was rushed, and messy as you felt his hands holding you as if you carried the weight of the universe. your teeth clashed, your tears staining each other's skin as your hands gripped at his hair, using it for leverage as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, enjoying the whimper that escaped your lips when he nipped at yours. 

it was what years of longing and desperation felt like. how it felt like you two just molded into each other as if your bodies were cut out with the other in mind. you felt like your heart was about to stop beating, and you knew gojo felt the same with the way he’d whine against your lips, wanting you more than you could have ever imagined. 

“we’ve been stupid people, haven’t we?” you whispered as you pulled away, trying to catch your breath as he smiled against you. if only you knew just how much he’d been wanting to kiss you like this, to see your swollen lips as you looked at him from beneath your eyelashes. you were his venus, his only saving grace, and he could only vex himself for ever making you feel anything but love. 

“very, “ he pressed a kiss to the corner of your eyes, “very,” to your nose, “stupid,” his lips were on your cheeks, feeling like he was breathing in new air at the sound of your laughter, “people.” he pressed his lips to yours again, cherishing in the way you whined at the harshness. 

he had spent months convincing himself that you no longer cared for him. weeks of perilous training to only come back to a bed and dream of a girl who didn’t share his emotions when in reality you did. he wants to track down the letters you had sent him, to read every word carefully, as if each sentence carried its own riddle inside of it. he wanted to apologize for never having the honor of experiencing your skilled penmanship, for leading you to believe that he had simply forgotten about you. 

“gojo,” your fingers curl in his tunic, your heat transferring, trying to be rational in such an irrational state of being, “you’re bleeding, i should call for the doctor.” he didn’t stop kissing your face, moving to your jaw as he smiled hearing you shudder. 

“it’s not my blood,” he murmured and you wanted to smack him for how cocky he sounded, “and don’t call me gojo.” he nipped at your lips again. 

“husband?” you found yourself smiling at the title, but he shook his head. you saw how he was trying to hide his own grin. 

“sire?” you tested it out teasingly, hating how it sounded. he seemed to agree with the way he grimaced at the name. 

“my lord?” he wanted to bottle up your laughter forever, knowing he could get drunk off of the sound. his nose nudged up at your jaw, pressing wet kisses wherever he could. 

“hmm, what about my liege?” you're curling a strand of his hair around your fingers letting him settle you down on your vanity as you spread your legs so he could slot between them. 

“my men call me that.” he says, cringing as it falls off your mouth. you pretend to think, not knowing how you were able to live without this banter for as long as you did. 

“satoru?” you felt breathless saying it after so long. but he still didn’t seem to find it satisfactory enough, a pout on his lips as he wanted you to find a better one. 

“close, but only when you’re angry with me.” you tuck that information in the back of your mind for if you ever need to scold him, your cheeks flushed as he interlocks his fingers through yours. 

“‘toru…?” his lips broke into a giddy smile, and you had to control yourself as he swooped back in for a kiss. his eyes were so much softer when he laughed, the kind ones you fell in love with so many nights ago. 

“there it is,” his voice was husky, raw as your fingers gripped at the baby hairs at his nape. he was taking your air away with him and you couldn’t find it in yourself to fight back for it. 

“i forgot how cheeky you can be,” you bite your lip to keep the moans inside, feeling feverish as his tongue ran over his love marks, not knowing what to do yourself as you scrambled to grab onto something to keep you afloat.

“you have no idea how much self-control it’s taken not to ravage you,” his breath is hot on your skin, and he’s tugging at your shirt, fingers slightly brushing upon your breasts, “every night you’d come down for dinner i wanted something different to eat.”

“stoppp,” you mewled, not used to this. he chuckles as his slender fingers work to untie the knot keeping you together, tugging at the string until it falls, revealing your naked chest, heaving as the fabric pooled at your hips. 

you wanted to cover yourself up under his heavy gaze, to take the fabric and hide, but you felt pierced by his stare. his eyes darted to yours as if checking to see if you were okay. when you gave him a timid nod, it seemed as though it prompted him to finally move. 

his fingers were gentle as they ran across your waist, large as they covered the soft of your stomach, eager as they went upwards. he looked like he was crazed and starved, as if you were his last meal and he couldn’t wait for the sweetness death would give. 

your breath stuttered as his fingers found your mounds, rubbing a soothing thumb over your nipples as his pupils grew. he was eager as he flicked them over and over, a cheshire grin growing as they hardened under his touch. 

“you’re perfect,” he murmured, dropping down so he could suckle at your tits, his spit shining in the light of the fire, and you tilted your head back, soft moans escaping as his tongue drew circles around your buds. 

“f-fuck, ‘toru, that’s,” you couldn’t even finish your sentence, his second hand coming to cup your other tit, not wanting to leave her unattended as he sucked and bruised, wanting to forever leave his mark on your untainted skin. 

“good?” he’s so cocky, and you want to smack the smug smirk off his devilishly handsome face. 

his knee is purposefully rubbing against your clothed clit, and you feel yourself subconsciously rubbing yourself against it. you hope that he can’t feel how drenched you are from him just sucking your tits, but he pinches you, pressing his tongue flat against your skin as he looks up through his lashes.

“horny from just me touching you?” he’s teasing you, it’s so painful the way you want, need him like oxygen. you tug on his hair roughly, bringing his spit-soaked lips back to yours as you bite down on his lower one, enjoying the groan you draw out from him. 

“don’t be mean ‘toru,” you taunt, and you feel him melt in your fingers, nodding to your request as he lowers himself down. 

he presses wet kisses down your torso, stopping just above your hips, his fingers hooking along the rim of your underwear, being careful and slow in his movements as he waits for any objections, making sure you’re okay with this. 

but you were in your own world, hitching your leg over his shoulders, drawing him in closer to you, sweat dotting your forehead as he licks a stripe over the cotton on your pussy, smiling to himself at the taste of you. 

you were so sweet, sweeter than any desert he’d indulge himself on. he was sure that once he had a taste of you he’d be able to repent, to go before any god, and to tell them that you were his religion.

he had spent countless nights, tossing and turning in his bed, the only thing putting him to sleep being the idea of coming home to you. running after you that night was him running home to you, regardless of where you were. he was glad he got your hand in marriage, but if he had to, he’d wait another ten years just to hold you in his arms again.

he peels your underwear off, a string of your arousal connecting to it, and he tucks it in his pants, for safekeeping. 

“you’re going to be the death of me.” he says against your heat, his nose rubbing against your clit as your eyes wring shut in pleasure. his hands grip your thighs, making sure you stay in place as he kitten licks around where you need him the most. 

“don’t let…don’t let any of your enemies hear,” your voice comes out in bits, your hand resting on the back of his head as your leg tightens around him, “don’t want them to come after me or something.” 

he snorts, pinching your thighs as if anybody could come within a ten feet radius of you without losing an eye. 

his lips come closer to where you desperately want him, a finger prodding at your tight entrance, his tongue finding your clit as he begins to suck. 

it’s all too much, the sensations far better than your own fingers have ever proved to be. 

his fingers are skilled, long enough that they reach deep within you. he sinks one fully in, your walls clamping around him as he continues sucking your clit, his teeth grazing it every so often, making your head thump against the wall. 

“talk to me, how do you feel?” his mouth discontented from your bud and you whine at the loss. he sinks in another finger to make up for it, but he doesn’t move them, waiting for your response. 

“‘s good,” one of your hands is fisting your discarded robe, trying to hold onto your senses as you desperately nod, “don’t stop ‘toru, please,” and he obliges, loving the sounds of your begging, but loving the sound of your pleasures more. 

his fingers stretch you open and you welcome the sting, your nails digging into him as you long for more. 

he switches his mouth with his hand every now and then, his tongue taking the place of his fingers as it licks at you, groaning at your taste as he eats you out with his entire being, his chin shining with your essence and his spit as his thumb rubs furiously at your clit. 

“mmhhh, just like that, fuck!” you’ve never heard your voice at this pitch, never knew it was possible to feel this way. his other hand reaches up to flick at your nipple, the extra sensation making white dot around your vision. 

you feel yourself getting closer to the sweet release, feel your wall clamp around him even tighter as that knot in your stomach builds to a crescendo. 

“come on, let go f’me, know you want to, know you can.” he spurs you on, his fingers unrelenting as they piston in and out of you, reaching that gummy spot that makes you go dumb.

“fuck, ‘toru, m’gonna, m’gonna come!” you cry out and you’re sure anybody walking past you could hear the debauchery. your thighs were starting to shake and you felt it all go black as you reached your high, your orgasm washing over you unlike anything you’ve ever felt. 

you creamed around his fingers, gushing around him as you wailed out, tears dotting your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure you were feeling. you squeezed around him, wanting to never lose what this felt like, trying to catch your breath as his mouth never stopped sucking at your nub before he was sure your climax was over. 

when he finally pulled away the only thing that could be heard was the two of you, trying to come back down as stupid smiles made their way onto each of your faces. 

he was boyishly charming as he stood in front of you, licking yourself off of his fingers as he grinned at the taste. you couldn’t be bothered to be embarrassed after having him just between your legs, but you still felt a heat blossom in your chest. 

“so…” you awkwardly start, sweat dripping down your face from just how hot the room had suddenly gotten as you avert your gaze, “what now?” 

he shrugged nonchalantly, despite the fact that his heart was about to beat it’s way out of his chest. you let him pick you off of the vanity and tucked you safely away into his chest as he led you to your bed, gently setting you down in your mountain of pillows and blankets as you felt sleep etch away at you. 

“i’m going to clean you up,” he pressed a kiss to your hair, smiling at the way you giddy smiled at whatever he did, a dopey grin on your face as your hand searched for his, interlocking you fingers with his as if you didn’t want to watch him go, “if you let me.” 

you yawn, your head tilting as he sat down at the edge of your bed, still not letting go of your hand as your fingers run through the soft pelts beneath you. 

“and what about you?” your chin points the obvious hard-on growing in his pants. he looks down as if suddenly realizing, and he plays it off by looking back up to you with a wink. you felt your mouth going dry at the size of it, not knowing if you could even be able to take something as big as that. 

“for another day,” he promises, and you’re sure he’s not going to forget it. not like you want him to.

“and then?” 

your question lingers in the air. you don’t want to wake up to him acting like this never happened, as if your feelings were only a figment of your wildest dreams. but his eyes hold onto yours, never letting go as he brushes some strays away from your face. 

“and then i get a bigger bed for my room because there’s no way i’m letting you sleep here alone after this.” his thumb runs along the palm of your hand, his fingers tracing patterns into the soft of your legs. 

“and then?” 

“and then you tell me all the things i missed out on when i was gone. i’ll tell you about the time suguru shaved my head, and you’ll tell me about anything on your mind.” 

“what if i run out of things to say?” sleep is overtaking your voice, and you’re already nodding off, not even truly knowing what you were asking. 

“then i’ll make up stories so that you’re not bored.” he finds a clean towel, soaking it in water from a nearby pitcher as he drags it slowly across your body, as if your fragile and made of porcelain. 

“how do i know you’re not a dream? you might just be,” you yawn, rubbing at your eyes as your finger traces his ring, “you might just be my own mind tricking me.” your eyes are shutting, but the teasing smile on your face never leaves. 

“because a dream wouldn’t hide under a table with you if you asked.” he whispers, kissing your lips with a soft peck as he pulls the blanket over you, letting you sleep into a slumber as he crawls in next to you, holding you to his chest just as he did that night, just as he will every night from now on, and just as he longed for those nights he wished you next to him.

[rockingbytheseaside]

Hi! I wanted to say I absolutely adore your art and headcannons! I wanted to ask if you would be interested in making a headcannon for our lovely harbingers where there is someone trying to sabotage their relationship with the reader like for example the person is saying that the reader is cheating or is saying mean things about the harbingers and that they have ,,proof" it is if course a lie. Don't force yourself to do anything you don't want to tho!

(Absolutely genius idea! Sorry to keep you waiting! I’m a slow writer…)

✦ When others try to sabotage your relationship with them

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Childe

(tw: general mentions of violence and blood. sfw) 

Being intimate with a powerful Fatui Harbinger provides the illusory dream of having riches, power, and status. Some watch you with hushed murmurs as you accompany your beloved with linked arms, looking all elegant beside him. Perhaps some people cannot comprehend how such a ruthless Fatuus can even court someone like you. Others simply cannot comprehend that status and money is not a key factor in your relationship.

✧ To crossfire with Pierro is to go against every single Fatui Harbinger. The Director is known far and wide as a man of cold words and power beyond the seven nations. All valuable intel and actions are reported to him first and foremost, as even the top Harbingers bow before him. You, on the other hand, were not meant to bow before him. The Jester shall never let you lower your head, because it is he who shall stoop to worship you. 

However recently, a certain rumor reached his ears. His spies related to him info that certain Fatui soldiers, some lowly commoners at the bottom of the ranks, are spreading uncouth jabs about you and Pierro. Intel states that these fools think you infiltrated the Fatui and The Director’s inner circle by some intimate provocation and seduction; that you’re in it for the money and status.

Pierro’s gloved hands gripped the papers. Nevertheless, his expression is placid as always. 

Thus, the culprit now sat in Pierro’s office, trembling as the room oozed with murderous silence. The Jester never raised his voice, nor did he question the man who “joked” about you. The fellow kept spitting apologies, begging for mercy. He knew it was futile to lie or waste the Director's patience.

And the Jester? It took everything in his power not to get his gloved hands bloodied. To hear someone accuse you - his most cherished, as a shallow harlot? Consequences shall be faced. Calming his boiling turmoil, Pierro continued to conduct himself professionally:

He made sure the man and his entire generation met their oblivion. 

With the recruitment of his best spies, he ascertained that the culprit’s disappearance was not felt by a single soul, his entire family gone, and all traces of spread rumors eradicated. Above all, it was orchestrated so that you would remain unaware that anyone dared to tarnish your reputation.

You carried on with your life, blissfully unaware and undisturbed. Even now, you came in knocking on his office, asking: “Long day at work, honey? I can bring you some tea or coffee if you want.”

The Jester's smile returned, throwing away some crumbled documents into the trash can - “A tea break would be excellent, my divine.”

If it’s blood that needs to be spilled to protect you and his private affairs, then Pierro won’t think twice. 

✧ For Il Capitano, the way of the blade speaks more for its wielder than words. If you wish to prove your stance, you better be prepared to face the First Fatui Harbinger, as his might will test you in a relentless duel of strength. So what do you think happened when Capitano overheard someone calling you “weak”? That his beloved does not deserve an ounce of his attention, because you are a meek being compared to the Harbinger? 

His hand instantly found its place on the hilt of his claymore. He left no room for negotiation or doubt. He marched straight towards the culprit, unsheathed his weapon, and pointed the sharp point of his blade straight at the person.

“If you are so confident to spit such insolence about them, then you must be equally confident with your strength. Let your blade speak.”

The poor fool tried to defend himself with excuses. But his mocking meant nothing to the Captain’s weapon. Before you know it, there is an ongoing duel initiated by Il Capitano. The witnesses know that whoever is on the receiving end of his wrath has no chance of surviving. Not when a single swing of his weapon causes craters on the ground.

The man was about to collapse, accepting his violent demise. But just as Capitano was about to unleash his final lesson, your voice rang out amongst the crowd.

“Hey! Cease this commotion at once!” - you stepped up, your expression stern as you stood in front of your beloved. In a rare moment of vulnerability, the Captain’s already stoic body language shifted. His claymore was sheathed back to its place.

“My beloved, you shouldn’t have seen this…”

“And yet I did. It would’ve reached my ears anyway. What did I say about temperamental duels, Capitano? Morons are not worth it.” 

“He called you weak. I cannot allow it.”

For a minute, Capitano kept his head hung low in reverence. You stood with your arms on your hips, scolding him. Was it not for your intervention, that person who vocally mocked you would’ve been lying dead now. Instead, you spared the offender, and the man was allowed to flee in humiliation. 

The conflict was eradicated, and Capitano's imposing demeanor showed he didn't regret his actions. Considering how even Capitano bowed to your words, the accuser realized - you are not weak. Because if there was one person who made the First Harbinger go motionless then it was you. 

✧ Today was a good day for Il Dottore, but you weren't sure why. He was a tad clingy, his steps laced with a sense of giddiness. Giving you extra squeezes while hugging, smothering you with longer kisses on the cheek. Even as you sat idly in his lab, you watched him as he worked on some paperwork with a grin.

Thus you questioned him, lazily strolling around his lab and observing the countless tools or vials. But he waved off his excitement, tapping his pencil over some papers - “Nothing of major importance, but I did have something interesting happen recently.”

You raised an eyebrow, beckoning him to continue.

“An idiot made a pathetic attempt at spreading rumors about us.” - You stopped in your tracks, going still as you held some miscellaneous container with what seemed to be tissue samples. The Harbinger continued: “Some fool spoke behind your back; stating that anyone who is close with a heretical scholar is bound to be equally insane. They thought that if their words didn't reach you, then it's of no consequence.”

Your expression fell somber with each word Dottore spoke. He said it with such profound avidity, that his voice demonstrated threatening intent behind them. So he continued. “But you know me, dear. Nothing goes past me. Vile nicknames are nothing new to me. My work is not for the faint of heart, and those pesky cretins enjoy concealing their fear with profane titles. And they can call me whatever they want. However, I won't allow them to call you names. Not because of my work.”

You averted your gaze sadly onto the samples of veins and organs in vials. You pretended to inspect them, but your sorrow was more prominent. You suspected Dottore already did something, hence his unusual giddiness today. Thus, you inquired in a soft whisper - “So… what did you do?”

“I handled it, naturally.”

“...You did? What happened? To the person who said such things, I mean.”

“What happened? Dear, you're holding them in your hands right now.” - Il Dottore beamed, pointing at the vials of organs you held. 

✧ Today, Scaramouche was eerily silent. You were accompanying him during one of his work expeditions, aiding him with certain formalities regarding his Fatui subordinates. The 6th had soldiers working under him, and although he did not care for their training, he did not tolerate any incompetent weaklings.

Therefore, you decided to lend a hand. You helped conduct a training program for his underlings, making sure all standards were met. It’s not the first time you did so, since The Puppeteer often placed you as the second in command whenever he was absent. And the Fatui soldiers did not conceal their thrill - it’s like you were their favorite substitute teacher who was more cheerful and forgiving than their superior.

Either way, Scaramouche saw that the mission was going smoothly. But soon, lightning would strike. A certain Fatuus, an agent in training, was getting too charmful with you. It was during the usual training assigned by you, and this person was focusing more on his conversation with you than his training:

Telling you how you are a remarkably skilled person. How it’s a marvel to see someone so delightful as you working alongside the Balladeer. How you shouldn’t waste your time with someone as aggravating as Lord Harbinger Scaramouche. He’s even leaning closer towards you.

You smiled uncomfortably, your attempts at polite disagreement did not work with this agent. Yet now you felt the static in the air, and that’s when you realized - Your beloved heard all of it.

On this usual, unassuming morning, Scaramouche walked silently and struck a man with lightning. All eyes turned towards the commotion as you stood behind the Harbinger. His fists were clenched, sparks of electro crackling from them.

He may have been silent the whole day, but don’t mistake his silence for impassivity.

“Next time, know your place,” - he seethed, standing over the person who endeavored to sweet talk you. He permitted his subordinates too much leeway, now they dare charm you with empty flirts. Scaramouche would’ve stomped that man’s head if he wanted, but he wouldn’t create such a grotesque scene in your presence. Instead, he turned away, held your hand, and pulled you away.

He gave you a day off, his mind already conjuring plans to deal with his underlings later. At least he scoffed out an apology. Not for what he did; he does not lament that. Just a small ‘sorry’ for giving you a quick fright. The lightning strike was very loud, after all. 

✧ Pantalone often gets invited to luxurious meetings or extravagant galas. Any party that is attended by the richest man in Teyvat is a guarantee to make high-society elites turn heads. However, considering your prolonged relationship with your darling Pantalone, you know he secretly despises these social gatherings. Therefore, he takes you with him. Dressed in your finest, Pantalone proudly shows you off to the pompous aristocrats.

People would watch enviously, thinking to themselves: The Regrator’s sweetheart, spoiled by his riches. Your attire is as glorious as his expensive suit. His arm is tenderly linked with yours, always offering you his hand like a true gentleman whenever you two walk. Even as he conversed with various business partners, he always had to make sure his hand was around your waist or your hand.

This dotting behavior made certain ladies of Snezhnaya jealous. They could see you were not a noble-born, nor were you used to the attention during such gatherings. You just timidly accompanied him, and Pantalone kept rambling about you and your benign achievements. Childish, really. You’re probably someone who just ran after and clung to the Harbinger until he relented to keep you. Therefore, a group of ladies initiated the conversation: 

“It’s a pleasure to meet a man such as yourself, Lord Harbinger.” and “Why, a man of your status is probably seeking some interesting company. Oh? You are with someone? My, my, I did not notice them.” or “Surely you desire connections worthy of your status, sir.”

Pantalone had mastered the art of courteous smiling, yet even his act was about to crack. He noticed the way these ladies tried to stand too close to him, pretend you were not in the picture, or even passively mock you. Their insolence stenches, and noticing your silent discomfort caused his heart to sting. But he had a plan.

“Why yes, you are right,” - Pantalone smiled with his charming looks “I do value my time, and it’s important to not waste it on shallow conversationalists. Oh, but it’s such a shame that the people in front of us are just that. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Pantalone turned to you, his arms encircling your waist while speaking such backhanded comments with triumphant smiles. The ladies’ smiles fell instantly, and you tried everything to avert your gaze. “Um, Pantalone? Maybe we shouldn’t-”

“Shouldn’t bore ourselves with such lowly individuals? Hmm, I agree. There isn’t much to do here anyway, only the greedy will seek something in this superficial gathering. Oh well, let’s go so I can take you to dance, dear.” - Pantalone concluded in his usual enamoring tone “Ladies, if you would excuse yourself.”

In this world, the 9th of the Fatui Harbinger doesn’t excuse himself - others do. Therefore, he took you away, scoffing and checking up on you with hushed whispers. Pantalone was offended. Why do they assume it was you who desperately sought out the rich Harbinger? Little do they know it was Pantalone who used to run and seek your attention just to be yours. Honestly, they’re discrediting his neediness for you. 

✧ Should anyone meddle with Tartaglia’s personal life, they are picking up a brawl. Someone dares to flirt with you? His fists are ready. Someone said something unwelcoming about you? Anything in the vicinity can be used as a weapon. Someone endangers his relationship? Their life is now in danger.

Of course, you’re the one who consistently yanked him out of these fights. Usually, it’s nothing serious, as when you scold your boyfriend for such reckless behavior it ends with his heartfelt words and apologetic chuckles. He finds solace in embracing you from behind, gently enfolding his arms around your shoulders, reassuring himself that all is well.

However, Tartagia is still a Harbinger. Away from home, he’d personally search for intel on the culprit who dares to offend your relationship. Names, records, locations, anything to keep tabs on those who think they can drag his family into bloodshedding matters. Tracking is of no issue, after all, when he was still a young rookie, training as a Fatui agent was just the first step.

Once he determines the offender, he’ll pay a discreet visit to them. And this time, without you dragging him away from fights, there is no place for mercy or jests.

At night, Childe returned home, cheerful as the sight of you getting ready for bed welcomes him. Yet in the dim lights, you’d gasp and approach him with concern, catching traces of smeared blood on his face or hands.

Ajax would just smile; he didn’t need to explain. Instead, he would quietly approach you from behind and envelop his arms around your shoulders in quiet stillness.