#i wish i was her imagine having him looking at you that way; even if it's just acting

[acid-ixx]

if you guys are interested, send in an ask or comment!

will anybody be willing to hear out neglected child reader who was another one of zeus's bastard children. you're out there chasing for your stepmother (hera's attention), whilst zeus just lets you run around without his care, clearly too wrapped up in his affairs. your other siblings aren't as good to you, too, thinking another half-deity isn't worth their time—

so you'd give up, pretty much choosing to bestow the mortal world with your presence instead; because if you can't be loved by your own family, then let yourself be worshipped by passionate mortals instead.

how about romancing telemachus? what if you both learn what it's like navigating through his godly favor with athena, and you with your own powers? what if you have odysseus and penelope be the actual parent-figures you always wanted? their overprotectiveness skyrockets every time you propose to being elsewhere in ithaca, to the point you forget that it's you who has the godly powers to oppose, but how could you when a darker side of them appears every time you allow yourself to be disrespected within their palace?

how about in another place? what are you to many of the great warriors, if not for a forgotten, yet mysterious and whimsical deity? why is your name muttered in all the regions? surely, with just how much you deny your god-like origins, but still manage to capture the hearts of hundreds of suitors, you'd gain quite the infamous name despite your closed-off attitude.

imagine enough attention was garnered on your presence, that that's what was needed for them to finally notice you? but you're not quite the same child who used to pull on their robes, or look at them as brightly as the sun— no, now you deny them of any of your love. your mother, hera, finally sees you and urges you to return to olympus away from the prying eyes of many suitors and back into the domain of safety. she calls you her baby, fuzzing over you even when you openly and spitefully try to rip her hands away from fixing your 'messy' robes. zeus isn't any better, now he calls you sweet names and pretend like he hadn't actively bashed on you for your weakness back when you were begging on his throne for just a sliver of attention? he wants you to sit in between his throne and hera's? you're significantly smaller than him, he's gigantic in nature, and it doesn't help that he treats you like you could be easily squashed by him (which is every damn right possible, and it's intimidating and makes you want to cry).

and there's the issue with the others, too. so many of them used to deny you in favor of focusing on their own domains. now apollo wants to carry you off in one of his chariots to ride off the skies with him while he plays his lyre to you? artemis wants to teach you the way of the hunt under the dark, gloomy skies you used to wish under for a moment of their time? aphrodite used to spitefully shut you out of her own doors, but now she invites you in her room to gossip and play pretend while she coos and braids your hair?

and all the other gods, now wanting to take you away from the underserving - as they say it - mortal realm? that the people who built sculptures of you, who held you more lovingly more than those you grew up with, aren't worthy of your divine presence?

what a joy to be a being looming between the lines of mortal and divine, right?

a/n: this concept is better off and more coherent in my head i swear. now i don't often diverge from my main fandom, but the similarities between this and the yan! batfam is quite hilarious to me that ngl i want to make a crossover of it. and yes, this is me coping with the stress of having to deal with the sudden influx of hate in the yan! dc community, so i'm taking a short break from it to focus on this.

[cherie-doll]

COD men’s reaction to their daughter having a boyfriend?

heh

༢���· Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

۶ৎ Price...

It wouldn't ONLY be Price worrying over who this new boy in his daughter's life was, it's the entire task force that is there against Price's wishes, and that's only because he HAPPENED to open his big mouth and spill the beans on his daughter dating

Simply shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as the backup team of Ghost, Gaz and Soap walk in, heck even Laswell is on the line calling Price giving him "advice"

I can imagine Price telling his daughter to leave the room once you're all settled in, and you just raise an eyebrow and give him a look like asking "what's going on?", he tells you to leave too and the boyfriend is sitting there, confused, palms sweaty as Price readjusts in his seat clearing his throat and saying "let's get one thing straight"

He really just wanted to set some things straight, but poor boy thought he was about to get kicked out or beaten because this is a man who's been in the military for years, not to mention the big buff guys who keep peeking over the corner with a menacing look every once in a while

Afterwards, you come around to Price asking what he told the boy, surely he didn't scare him away, right? He didn't, only told him to treat his daughter well and there wouldn't be any problems

۶ৎ Ghost...

Would be super protective, well what parent wouldn't? but he's on a different level, and both you and your daughter knew this, so your daughter tried finding a good moment to introduce the boyfriend

She let him know ahead of time so the initial shock response happened before he was able to get his hands on the poor young man dating your daughter, when the moment came Simon couldn't even sit still

He was standing, arms crossed as he leaned against the doorframe between the kitchen and living room when his daughter walked in with her boyfriend, staring daggers into the back of his head

Simon would never tell his daughter to break up or leave a boy she was into, but he would definitely warn her to be cautious, he just doesn't want her to be hurt, and God forbid THAT happen

He would go to whatever lengths necessary to keep that from happening, a heavy hand on the boyfriend's shoulder every time he comes to pick her up for a date, a subtle way of reminding him who's he dealing with

Surely, he wouldn't make a careless mistake while dating Simon's daughter

۶ৎ Soap...

He shares the same excitement as his daughter when she announces she's been asked out, he's happy for his girl, he's always seeking what's best for her and hopes she's happy, but when that initial enthusiasm wears off... he realizes he knows nothing about who asked his daughter out

Then, you have to hold him back from bombarding your daughter with questions, he'd annoy her real fast and that would only make her clam up and not reveal any information

He's worried about the type of guy who attracted his daughter, what if it was a criminal? Someone who could ruin her, do more harm than good? What if it didn't work out? What if it ended in heartbreak-

You have to knock some sense into him before he gets ahead of himself, if you were patient and kept your cool, your daughter would reveal all the details necessary herself without having to pry much and make it feel like an interrogation

He actually gets along quite well with his daughter's boyfriend once they get to know each other, they are obnoxious together and it annoys the hell out of not only you but your daughter too when they both end up spending more time together on Sundays

۶ৎ Gaz...

He was cooking breakfast when his daughter waltzed in, spinning and holding her phone close to her chest, Kyle smiled as he flipped a pancake, "And what's got you smiling like that?", he expected it to be something a teen her age would be giddy about, a band she liked coming to town? New episode of her favorite show released?

None of that turns out she's seeing a guy and he just asked her to be his girlfriend, when I tell you this man's jaw DROPPED and you had to call his name multiple times to bring him back to earth, "Honey...Kyle? The pancakes are burning"

You hugged your daughter and he did the same but as soon as she went back to her room he turned to you, whisper-yelling "Did I hear that right?", and you have to remind him it's normal for teens to start having an interest in dating

He truly is happy for his daughter, he just can't help but be a little worried, he'd hate for someone to break her vulnerable heart, but you bet he'd be very attentive and patient when his daughter wants to rant or has her first breakup

I don't think he'd be overly jealous, he'd only go on full dad mode if someone is selfish and hurts his daughter or tries forcing her to do something she doesn't want to, which is why he constantly sets an example with how he treats you so his daughter won't stand any bullshit her boyfriend tries to pull

۶ৎ Roach...

He'd probably just be shocked, not understanding entirely what his daughter just announced to the both of you, a boyfriend?! but wasn't it just yesterday that he was taking her elementary school? Roach hasn't realized how fast time flies, surely his daughter meant a boy FRIEND

He's quickly proven wrong when she calls out a name he hasn't heard before, and walking in is a young man the same age as his daughter, who comes to place an arm around her and introduce himself

oh, Roach couldn't mistake that look he just saw on his daughter's face, her eyes gleaming and bright as she looked up at her boyfriend

He greets the boyfriend but will then sit quietly and observe the entire time he's there, analyzing every move and sentence that comes out of that boy's mouth, he has a real knack for deciphering people's underlying intentions that you trust his instincts if he says either there is no malice detected from his daughter's boyfriend or if he senses something wrong

He mostly lets you handle this one because he doesn't know much about how kids date nowadays and lets you give advice instead

۶ৎ Alejandro...

He used to sometimes tense up whenever his relatives or someone would joke about his daughter growing up and having a partner, whenever it was brought up at a function he'd simply say nothing and continue to drink his beer quietly

Well his little girl did grow up and she kept the relationship somewhat of a secret for a while, afraid of what her dad's reaction would be, you had to be the one to sit him down and tell him while your daughter nervously waited in her room only for his reaction to be much better than you anticipated, hugged his daughter saying how happy he was to hear that

Still, sometimes he seemed to forget that the guy his daughter frequently brought around was her boyfriend because he kept referring to him as "ese amiguito tuyo" ("that little friend of yours")

Would make him do manual labor whenever your daughter brought her boyfriend around, Alejandro would ask him to help mow the lawn, or clean out the gutters with him, maybe help him finish building something and meanwhile they would have casual conversation

Overall, the boyfriend grew on Alejandro more and more that at this point he was considered a son and part of the family

۶ৎ Rudy...

He is very close with his daughter and has constantly been there for her in moments when she was a vulnerable teen, and he showered her with love and praise when she achieved her goals and accomplishments, he never had a reason to show hostility when she came home from college announcing that she had been in a relationship for a few months and wanted to introduce her boyfriend

Rudy couldn't help but feel just a little worried but he tried his best to keep those doubts hidden as to not come off as unwelcoming or controlling when he shook the hand of the man who had swept his daughter off her feet

I think Rudy was more worried about how he was acting in front of them that he even asked if he was balanced in his thoughts, you had to remind him that it was normal to worry about who your children chose to date, you had spent years raising and protecting them after all, but the fact that he was conscious of this proved how even now he put his daughter's wishes ahead of his own worries

He treated his daughter's boyfriend like a second son and always reminded his daughter how proud he was of her, he wished her all the happiness in the world in this new chapter of her life, it reminded him of when you and him started dating <3

۶ৎ Phillip Graves...

Who could be worthy of dating his daughter? The daughter of a commander? He had given her everything she wished for and more, was his daughter so sure she wanted to date so soon? Not that he was against it, he just sort of had high expectations

Phillip would have preferred if it had been someone he already knew, maybe one of his Shadow's children who were around the same age as his daughter, because then he already knew their family, etc...

But this introduction of someone new had him alert, he was ready to do anything in favor of his daughter if they made her upset, turns out he had nothing to worry about because his daughter was dating a nerd, what her boyfriend lacked in social skills he excelled in academics and personality, not to say he treated her like Phillip had always accustomed his daughter to being treated

The same delicate attention and sincerity, Phillip liked that right away and was always asking his daughter when she'd invite her boyfriend over again

Next thing you knew, Phillip would gladly tell anyone willing to listen how his daughter was not only the best daughter he had but he now also had a great future son-in-law

۶ৎ Makarov...

Uhmm, he would be VERY well informed of any guy that would show interest in his daughter, probably senses it before the daughter even develops strong feelings for the interested guy

He has his ways of finding out everything on the guy, his background, family, financial status, his connections... everything, and imagine the reaction of his daughter when she finds out what her dad's been up to in his free time, she would freak out and demand for him to stop

They argue nonstop for hours, going back and forth until finally they make a deal, he stops "stalking" her boyfriend if she agrees to introduce the boyfriend to Makarov soon, they both agree and a date and time is set

You're with Makarov at the restaurant they agreed to meet up, and you're reminding Makarov to be reasonable while you wait for your daughter and her boyfriend to arrive

Makarov is looking down, fiddling with the eating utensils on the table as he breathes through his nose, you think he's too mad to respond to you but he gives in and nods, you smile and press a tender kiss to his cheek which seems to lighten his face up, a smile appearing on his lips

But that smile quickly disappears when he looks up to meet his daughter's boyfriend, this will be a long evening for him...

۶ৎ Keegan...

Keegan thinks that the young man who's knocking on your front door is a salesman or someone coming to offer their services, he's dressed sort of nice so Keegan is kind in turning him away, "Sorry, Kid. I'm not buying anything you've come to sell" and he's about to close the door when his daughter comes quickly, "Dad! That's my boyfriend"

Boyfriend? "Since when-" And he's left standing there, dumbfounded as you come to the rescue and welcome the boy in, you have to nudge Keegan with your elbow to remind him to be polite

He used to always say he'd come out with a gun to run off any guy who tried to bother his daughter but this caught him completely off guard, Keegan ends up not being able to find anything offensive or rude about his daughter's boyfriend to use against him so he has to come to terms with the fact that he's fine with it and lets them be

Your daughter secretly knew this which is why she wasn't as worried when inviting her boyfriend over, didn't tell Keegan and only let you know because she knew he'd take it better if he wasn't expecting anyone

۶ৎ König...

"Is it not too young-" You stop him there before he can say anything more, your daughter had just interrupted you reading and König just so happened to be around to hear when your daughter mentioned a guy

He doesn't understand that some start dating in their teens or as young adults because he never really gave it much thought when he was that age, he assumed everyone else was like that

He doesn't know how to react when there's a guy just there, suddenly and shaking his hand, König is too immersed in his thoughts to notice how nervous the guy is as he looks up at the intimidating height of König, he could easily be snapped in half, and he thought he was tall...

Your daughter's boyfriend also isn't used to how silent König gets sometimes, so he's sitting there worried and shaking thinking he said or did something wrong for his girlfriend's father to just be dead silent, not directing a word to him but instead muttering under his breath

König is just trying to think of what to ask, because in situations like these he needs to find out stuff about his daughter's boyfriend, right?

۶ৎ Horangi...

This man is not taking it seriously, at all, now is not the time to bring up an old video he had taken when his daughter was five years old saying how she wasn't ever going to marry or like a boy

He's clowning her with his video he somehow still had saved while your daughter just sits there like -_-, you have to try and convince him to put the phone away before the waiter at the restaurant you're at comes over to ask him to leave for disrupting the other customers

He unintentionally interrupts their dates or when they're having a moment by calling his daughter on her phone or if they're at your house he comes around to the living room to watch tv even though they were trying to have a conversation in that room

So you have to constantly keep him distracted and occupied or else he'll want to go join his daughter and her boyfriend because he thinks whatever they're doing is a lot more fun and he thinks it's back like when his daughter was a little girl and was always inviting him to play games together

۶ৎ Nikto...

While he couldn't ever be bothered to pay attention at the dinner table when his daughter mentioned having a new crush at school, Nikto became a lot more serious when your daughter brought over a guy for dinner, who is this boy and what's he doing sitting and eating in his house?

He's confused to see the that who his daughter spent evenings talking to on the phone is this ordinary guy eating beside him, Nikto looks over to you and notices how attentive you are to everything the boy is saying, you smile and nod endlessly and he wonders if he should be doing the same

But with the scar on his lip it's hard to make it seem as pleasant as yours, he focuses on just listening and eating in silence, once the boy leaves he asks who that was, a partner his daughter brought to work on something school related? "No, Nikto. That's her boyfriend" HER WHAT-

Suddenly, he wishes he would have tuned in a little sooner when he had noticed the boy, Nikto simply turns to your daughter, "Does he treat you well?" She meekly answers yes and Nikto shrugs, "No problems, we're good" and he leaves for his nap

[taelortot]

Choso Smau Part 11

Pre relationship texts + immediately after texts

Not proofread :(

Total time knowing choso: 12 months

Thick air surrounds y/n, choking her— suffocating her lungs as she tries to even her breathing. She stares at her phone in her hands, rereading the text that stands out in bold black letters.

“I love you, bunny”

It’s almost as if she can hear him saying it with his low, warm voice. Choso voice was always the most satisfying to listen to. Velvety smooth, like a fresh pot of dark roast coffee first thing in the morning.

“Bunny I love you”

Oh, that was most definitely not y/ns imagination. Y/ns eyes snap up, hands shaking and chest heaving. Dropping her phone to her bed, she stands on unsteady legs, unsure if her best friend knows what those words mean. Unsure is Choso really understand what that will mean for them.

“Baby… please just open the door”

A faint squeak comes from y/ns lips, quickly being covered up with her hands. This isn’t real. It can’t be. In y/ns mind, she was hopelessly in love with her best friend, and he didn’t feel the same way. So she told him to go on a date, so maybe if he had another person to care for… she could move on. And he would never ever have to know.

But, of course not. Things never work out the way y/n wishes they would. Almost as if she has no control over the course her life will follow, just as she has no control over the way her feet move on their own. Closer and closer to the door that separates the two best friends.

“O-okay”

Voice trembling as she reaches out to unlock the deadbolt— a lock choso could have easily broken to get inside of he really wanted to.

“Choso” y/ns hand stills on the cool metal, resting her forehead against the wooden door frame. Choso rattles the door knob, hoping to push his way in. “Tell me you mean it” y/n begs, her voice desperate, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. So close to spilling over.

“I mean it, bunny. I fu-fuck I mean it baby… cmon baby. Open the door for me”

‘Baby’ y/n mouths, a small smile on her lips. Relishing in the way that one little word made her feel. Somehow the word making her melt from the inside out. An eruptions of butterflies swarming deep in her tummy, wanting to burst out of her chest. It was so out of character for Choso to say that word. She was always bunny.. and now she’s wondering what possessed him to call her that pretty name.

“Okay” y/n nods, unlocking the deadbolt. As soon as Choso hears the click, he’s pushing the door open, not meaning to use as much force as he had. Just feeling so desperate to see y/n, to explain to her these feelings he has.

“Bunny”

“Cho”

No more words. Just staring at each other in the barely lit room, as if time has stopped. Heart pounding so loud choso is sure y/n can hear it. Shit— he was sure she could see the way it was practically beating out of his chest, rattling around his rib cage as if it bursting out of his chest was the only way she’d believe his words.

Thud

Thud

Thud

“Cho-“ “shhh.. ju-just” the large man steps closer, closing the small gap between them. His callused hands reaching out, gently cupping y/ns face. Thumbs caressing her rose tinted cheeks with a tenderness neither knew he possessed.

Dark brown eyes searching, looking for any sign that she wants him to stop as he moves closer. Eyes darting between y/ns and her pretty lips. The lips he’s been dying to feel against his for over a month now. Y/ns eyes fluttering closed is enough of a sign for Choso to take. So he does.

It’s so pathetic— the noise that escapes chosos throat as he pushes his slightly chapped lips against y/ns perfectly smooth lips. Not caring that they taste a little salty from the popcorn she was eating just moments ago. Y/ns bottom lip slotted perfectly between both of his. One hand moving from her face to the back of her head, fingers carding through her soft hair—not leaving any room to move away. Never getting away from him, not after this.

The feeling is so hard to describe. Choso doesn’t understand how something so simple can feel so good and mean so much. Y/ns hands bunch up in Chosos white tee, pulling him closer. Needing to feel him everywhere, needing him to be as close as possible as their lips work together like they’re meant to be doing this.

So perfectly in sync, moving at a rhythm that was soft and sweet. Y/n so pliant in Chosos hands as he kicks the door closed with a slam, and nudging her back, deeper into the small room.

“Cho” y/n whimpers in her delicate voice that Choso loves so much, breaking the kiss, but not moving back. Pupils blown wide, breath heavy and the smallest smile gave it all away. Choso didn’t need to hear what y/n was going to say, he already knew just from the way she was looking at him. And he wasn’t so sure why it took him so long to realize that she always looked at him like this.

“I love you too Cho”

But it still felt good to hear out loud.

“Who told you to call me baby?” Y/n giggles as Choso tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear like this is some sort of romance movie.

“Gojo says that’s how he gets all the girls to fall for him”

Guess Gojo was right for once.

I am not a good writer.. but I’m trying :( I used to write a lot and was pretty decent, so im just getting back in the groove.

Yall! I got this emo boy to start calling me bunny and now I’m living my Wattpad fantasy lol

ALSO!!! I love to write psycho stalker obsessed type stuff.. so who do you think would be like that from jjk??? And I’ll write it :)

Taglist: @vellichor01 @loveyislost @ersharyzst @koreluvsspring @gradmacoco @emlient @namjooningera

[bravo666]

insecurity

price x reader

you don’t really get why he picked you.

it’s not really his fault that you’re confused. when you manage to ask why you—letting insecurity fizzle up and rise like ginger beer in your stomach—john tells you all the right things, the things that you would expect: you’re beautiful, a sight for sore eyes, his one and only. “oh, sweetheart,” he says, and his soft brow furrows with something that brushes close to pity, his only wish for you to see what he sees in you. you look into those blue eyes and try to catch the curve of your own reflection.

it’s good. really, it is. his murmured praise and whiskered kisses make that insecurity die down and grow flat for a time. john loves you. you hold fast to that.

but, sometimes, you just can’t make sense of it.

something else that isn’t his fault: john’s a certain kind of man. a man’s man, one might say. being a military captain has that effect, though you can almost imagine a newborn john price coming out of the womb gruff, bristled, and with bad knees. he’s the type of man who has opinions on alcohol and cares a lot about how his favorite football club fares this season. his ideal future involves a dog, a yard, and a run of children, and he’s not shy about it.

you’ve known men like that before. moreover, you’ve known their wives—and it always is their wives, not partners or anything as newfangled as that. they’re not all the same—nice women, rude women, pretty or plain—but there are certain qualities that they all share. housewives in spirit, chins raised. pampered. manicured. best in show. knows when to nod and smile and give her man a knowing look. the missus.

it’s safe to say that you don’t quite feel like you measure up to the mold. you have edges, hard and frayed, that don’t fit into the soft mold of the person you feel that john wants. it’s just not very you. your anger, your anxiety, your hard-headedness, your tears: none of these feel like something cute—so why does he coo over you like it is? it’s not even that john wants something else; from the warm spot you occupy by his side, you can see the way the road maps out before him in his eyes, contextless and spit-shined.

(dinner burns in the oven. he says it’s okay, that you’ll get it right next time. these things happen. don’t get upset, sweetheart, i’m not mad while he holds you round the middle.)

you labor over these thoughts, rolling them between your hands with the biscuit dough you knead out. the question remains: why, exactly, did john price pick you to lay his head down besides when the world is teeming with more eligible candidates?

an answer comes when you meet his team for the first time. they arrive for dinner after john and them have been off on a short deployment—you promised john a roast when he got back because a little extra motivation for him to come home in one piece can’t hurt, and one of them must have overheard it turned into them inviting themselves over—and soon you’re putting faces to names that have lived only in john’s all-too-brief stories. you greet them all as they arrive at the door to john and your’s home: handsome kyle and boisterous johnny and quiet, intense simon. normal men, you think—well, barring the balaclava simon won’t take off, but at least you were forewarned about that. normal soldiers.

but then the five of you sit down to eat, and—well, it’s still normal. except it isn’t. It’s impossible to explain, and you’re sure that if you tried to talk to john about it, he’d laugh a little and say i don’t know what you mean, lovie, but you’re quietly sure you see something in the way they all lean their shoulders to your john. a deferential quality, even subconsciously, one that stretches beyond what you think is typical for a commanding officer to hold with his subordinates. it’s in the way simon pauses and flicks his eyes to john, waiting for a tiny nod before he rolls the bottom half of the balaclava up to eat, or how kyle sits on john’s right and keeps passing him the food first, or even the way johnny straightens his spine a little when john nods at something the lad said mid-story, the sergeant all puffed up with pride.

and when the boys break the scotch out near the end of the night and the lips get looser, it’s not hard to guess why.

“price picked me. i felt like my hands were tied in my old life, and he gave me a new one.”

“‘e’s a good captain. not many other men can see past all the shite and cut to the ‘eart of what matters.”

“aye, the captain? ah’m wi’ him all the wey, the surly bas’. made me the soldier ah am today.”

you sip your own glass and the room feels just a little bit smaller as the boys banter on. they owe him their lives, they say, before segueing into hey remember whens and ribbing laughter. your boyfriend catches your eye across the table, your place among his boys, with a smile.

he’s a man’s man. good with his hands. you should have realized that he had a knack for fixer uppers.

(after dinner, he slides an arm around your waist and presses a kiss to your hair. “thank you for dinner, love,” he says, and when you’re pulled into his chest like this, the rumble of his voice tucks itself away into your bones.

“of course,” you say, and then, “john?”

“yes, lovie?”

“why… why did the boys invite themselves over?

he chuckles like you’ve told a joke, and you’re half expecting him to say silly rabbit. but instead, he just leans back and grants himself enough access to smooth down the back of your shirt and gently re-tightens the strings of your apron, his favorite of the ones that he’s gotten you.

“well, love,” john hums, “what can i say? they all just wanted to meet the missus.”)

[angelsdean]

Mary is 28. The year is 2016. Her whole life has been stolen from her. Some cosmic being plucked her from Heaven, took her away from her home, her husband, her babies, and placed her in this strange new world.

Her babies are gone, replaced with strangers a foot taller than her and nearly a decade older. They call her mom in gruff voices. They are hunters, something she never wanted for them. She has to hold back tears just looking at them. She sees glimmers of herself in Dean. His hair has darkened since he was a little boy, but she sees herself in other parts. The shape of his face, his cheekbones, his smile. She sees herself in Sam too, though he feels stranger. She can't quite match her pudgy little baby to this man.

At night, she moves through the bunker like a ghost. Nothing feels quite real. She takes scissors to her hair, thinks a drastic change will make this all feel more real. Throws herself into hunting. The adrenaline helps. Her racing heart reminding her she's alive, alive, alive. This isn't a dream.

This isn't a dream.

She sobs into her pillow, as the reality of it hits once more. She will never see her babies again.

These strange men look at her like she's a wonder. She understands what they lost. Understands they never had a mother. She imagines she'd look at her babies the same way, if she could see them again.

But she doesn't know how interact with this Sam and this Dean. All she knows is rocking babies to sleep to the tune of "Hey, Jude" and cutting the crusts off PB&J's and warming up store-bought pies for her sweet little toddler. She feels like she's failing at something she never really felt she succeeded at in the first place. So she focuses on the one thing she was ever good at: hunting.

When the British Men of Letters approach her, she goes in with good intentions. She's doing this for her boys. It's the one thing she can do right, she thinks.

Except things go wrong. They always go wrong.

"Cas almost died," Dean says, a hard edge to his voice and his eyes swimming with emotion.

She feels terrible, tries to explain. "I'm doing this for you. I'm playing three decades of catch up here." She wants to say, I'm trying to fix things. If I can rid the world of monsters, if I can make it safe then you won't have to fight anymore. You can have normal lives. You can be free. But she doesn't know how to talk to them.

Mary watches Dean's expression cloud with his own grief. "And we're not? How do you think this has been for us? We're your sons, and you've been gone. Our whole lives, you've been gone," he says. And she understands. She's been gone. And her babies are gone. And it's all so unfair.

"You said that you needed time. No, you said you need space," Dean continues, and she can feel herself losing him. Them. Sam won't even look at her. "So we gave you your space. But you didn't need just space. No, you needed space from us."

He's not wrong. She told them when she left, how hard it was to be around them.

"That's not true," she lies. "Dean, I'm trying –"

"How 'bout for once, you just try to be a mom?" Dean cuts in, hurt, angry.

And it hits her harder than she expected. Because she wishes, wishes she could be a mom again. To her babies. But that's never going to happen. And if she's stuck here, then she needs to figure out some other way to be.

"I am your mother," she says, sternly, "but I am not 'just a mom.' And you are not a child." It's not fair. Part of her knows that's not what Dean was asking. Not how he meant it. She's the one wishing he were a child. Wishing she could be "just" a mom. But she can't be a mother to them. Not this Dean. Not this Sam.

Dean looks her in the eyes, his expression vacant, haunted, and says, "I never was." His lip trembles for just a moment before he regains his composure.

She was a hunter's kid once. She knows what it's like. There's little room for childhood innocence. But she also doesn't know. She had a stable home. She had two parents. She had no siblings to look after.

"So between us and them –" Dean continues, the question hanging in the chasm that has opened up between them.

"It's not like that." Can't you see I'm choosing you. This is the only way I know how to keep you safe.

"Yeah, Mary, it is." She hates how it doesn't exactly break her heart, hearing her name come from his mouth instead of "mom." It feels more normal. Because these are not her children. "You made your choice. So there's the door."

Dean walks out of the room without a second look. Sam rises from the table, averting his eyes. She understands this too. Struggling to look. To see.

But this isn't how she wanted things to go. She didn't mean to upset them. And she doesn't want to lose them completely. She just--needs more time. "Sam," she tries. Maybe it would be easier to get through to him. He never really knew her, has no memories of her.

But he tells her to go too.

And maybe part of her is glad for the easy out. This will give her more time. She just needs to focus on hunting. Save the world. Put her babies to rest. Then she can come back and they can...be a family. However that might look for them.

[asheepinfrance]

i wrote this with futile devices in mind but i don't think that really shows. i don't think it matters cause i think this one's silly. there's not much of a plot, this is just sorta a day in patrick's life after moving back in, in my mind a week or so post-new rochelle. i hope you like it. as always, feel free to leave any thoughts, critiques, etc. in the comments, should you have any advice on where to improve. thank you <333

The sun rose an hour ago, and Patrick woke with it, whether or not he wanted to. He can blame Tashi for the disturbance, because apparently she’d been the one to choose the thin, white curtains that are doing absolutely nothing to block out the rays of sunshine threatening to make him actually do something with his day. He’d rather not, really, when it’s better to curl up and pretend nothing is real besides the warmth of his blanket for another few hours. Eventually, Tashi and Art join the sensory input keeping him from sleep. He’s not even comfortable anymore, too leggy and curled up to fit onto their couch properly, but he can’t make himself move. He likes that he knows they’re looking at him, learning to watch him exist again. Learning to be comfortable with him the way they used to be. 

It’s quite easy, actually, to get comfortable again. He hasn’t changed in too many ways, though there’s an air about him that hadn’t been there in their younger years. Whether that came with age, a natural maturation, or their absence they weren’t sure. They’d feel less guilty about the former, though. Tashi’s holding a mug in both hands, the warmth slightly stinging at her palms, heating the metal of her wedding ring up. She watches Art watch Patrick, who shifts slightly to cover his face with the throw blanket they’d lent him. How he’d ended up staying the night at their hotel the first time was unclear. Now, here he is, curled into the couch of their actual home, acting as Dad #2 for Lily when she and Art are training, and switching off when she finally gives in and coaches Patrick a bit. She’s sure her mother appreciates the break. 

She laughs through her nose, her shoulders bouncing with it, and the sound, or lack thereof, breaks Art from his trance. “Has he always been this deep a sleeper?”, she asks like she doesn’t know the answer. Art drums his fingers against the marble countertop, a satisfying, rhythmic wave created by just some skin and bone. She wishes she could be an artist in that way, just moving her body and making something worth seeing. She used to have that. “I don’t know, it’s been a long time”, he shrugs, sniffles a little bit. They both know that he won’t move until about 12 in the afternoon, just like he always had done.

Patrick “wakes” to Tashi’s eyes level with his, and he can’t imagine why she’d kneel for him of all people, and just for the sake of greeting him. The roles should be reversed and he knows it, Art probably knows it from wherever he’s watching this display from. He feels a bit like a child with the way she speaks to him, airy and soft like he’s delicate. He isn’t entirely aware that he is. “Hey… you sleep ok?” He grunts when he sits up, a noticeable ache in the muscles of his lower back that her gaze immediately falls to, her lips pulling down the slightest bit. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like for that disapproving of hers to be born out of concern. “You know you can always sleep in the guest room, right?” He shakes his head, waves his hand somewhere in her direction to signal disapproval, and she doesn’t really understand why he won’t take the easy way out. After all, isn’t Patrick known for it? But he thinks he hasn’t earned it yet. He has to make Tashi and Art remember he’s sweet, that he can be a better man than he’d shown himself to be, because no one loves a man who only wins for himself, and then again he rarely wins at all. Everyone loves a selfless champion, so no one could quite love him. So he needs them to remember he values their attention so deeply that just knowing the layout of their house now, watching them exist and love one another, knowing the name of their preferred coffee, that’s enough for him. He isn’t sure whose approval it is that he needs more at this point.

Patrick’s favorite part of the day, or at least, part of the day to himself, has become showering. He remembers the first night, back at the hotel in New Rochelle, he’d watched dirt he hadn’t known existed run off of his skin in that warm water and he felt new. He felt clean and pure and cried like a baby, curling onto that cold, tile shower floor. He only snapped back into his own body when Art had knocked on the door after an hour, fearing Patrick had fallen. Patrick isn’t sure why he let Art come in, shakily voicing his consent through the unlocked door, considering his state, but Art didn’t mind. He minded so little that he kneeled at Patrick’s side, still clothed, and held him through it. He ignored the shirt now sticking to his skin, the inevitable heaviness of wet denim, and let Patrick fall into him like he’d needed to for 13 years. His awe at consistent availability of warm water hasn’t run off, and he can’t get out until the jack-and-jill bathroom mirrors have fogged up with steam, and he lets himself hope for a bit that his toothbrush will join theirs in that little cup in between the two sinks. 

When he watches Lily later that day, sitting on his knees to watch her intently draw on a sheet of yellow construction, she doesn’t seem to notice the weight of her words when she says, “You know, Mama and Dad haven’t been fighting so much now that you’re here.” She’s like Tashi in that sense, not knowing that every little thing she does has everyone’s heart aching. He can’t help the little scoff that comes out, more from disbelief rather than annoyance, and Lily just goes back to scribbling on her paper. “Whatcha drawing, kid?” He asks, forcing himself to change the topic and not wallow in something sickening and sweet in front of this little girl he’s still finding his way around interacting with. She pushes the paper towards him, and when he flips it over, he finds four disproportionately drawn figures, two tall men, one woman with two lines for hair, and a smaller girl furthest right. He decides then and there he’s going to hang it on the fridge, and wonders when he got so comfortable so as to feel he can make an imprint on their home. Even one so small as paper placed on the fridge with a magnet.

At night, a time that comes with a star-riddled sky, after Lily’s been put to bed and Patrick insisted on washing the dishes leftover from dinner, he finds himself staring at a small family photo on their wall. Art, Tashi, and Lily, clearly younger then, on some sunny patch of grass. He wonders what life would be like had he been there, what their walls would look like if they had traces of him, too. He feels like it’d sully their image. Selfishly, he hopes they wouldn’t mind that hit to their reputation. Maybe he hopes they actively choose to endure it. It’s late now, Tashi and Art’s voices carrying quietly from their bedroom, and he knows he won’t sleep. He couldn’t sleep anymore because he was happy, and he’d become accustomed to only dropping from sheer exhaustion. From a brain shutting down purely because it couldn’t withstand consciousness anymore. He feels like a child awoken from a nightmare when he knocks at their door, blanket draped over his shoulder, twiddling his thumbs, asking if he can sleep in their room. He insists it’s just for the night, they insist they wouldn’t mind if it was for longer than that. He tucks himself between the two of them as carefully as he can, avoiding Tashi’s knee at all costs, though he knows it’s years past being healed. They don’t do anything but touch him, a natural press from lack of space, warm breath to goosebump prickled skin, and he has to force himself not to cry, laugh, moan. He just closes his eyes and lets himself melt. He thinks if he lets his eyes close long enough, melt enough, he’ll fuse into them. Maybe that’s what he needs.

[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.

[bellesdreamyprofile]

“My Buckling” - Major Gale Cleven

summary: you were in charge of coffee, donuts and bright smiles around the base. your friend, bucky, is keen on you meeting his best friend buck. neither one of them is aware of the crush they already have on each other ; 2k words

There were other things in your horizon other than handing coffee, whiskey or donuts to American pilots. You loved art, books and children and you found comfort in your dream of becoming a teacher at some point after the war. Though the looks that these broken men had on their faces was enough to push you on your feet every morning, looking forward to making them the best damn coffee they had ever had.

You always made sure that your hair was styled nicely, that your makeup was impeccable and that a bright smile adorned your face. You couldn't even imagine what it was like to be up in the air and watch friends die before your eyes. If you could make them feel even just a tiny little better by smiling brightly at them and looking pretty, then your mission was accomplished.

"Ah, there she is. My favorite coffee lady.", you turned around with a playful smile, recognizing the voice in an instant.

"Hey Bucky.", he didn't waste any time to grab the coffee cup from your hands. "Did you sleep well?", you asked, watching him sip on the hot beverage.

He nodded, his eyes wandering around the hall. "Yeah, I slept alright, thanks. You?", you nodded and handed another pilot his coffee. "Anyways, you know there's that party tomorrow."

You let out a sigh at his words, knowing where they were going to lead. "John, you know that's not really my scene."

Bucky hummed and sneakily wrapped an arm around your shoulder. "You know, you all dolled up could be the last thing these pilots see in their lives.", you immediately slapped his arm, glaring at him. "Alright, alright, too far. But there is someone I'd like you to meet, though."

You moved away from his embrace and handed more coffees to the men. "Who's that?", you asked disinterested.

"My buddy Buck."

"Duck?"

The Major laughed, throwing his head back so abruptly that he almost spilled his coffee. "I gotta tell him.", he commented, amusement flickering over his features. "No, his name is Buck, with a B."

Your cheeks warmed up as you sighed, ignoring his gaze. "That's his name? Buck?", you turned his way with confusion written all over your face.

John shook his head and clicked his tongue. "Gale.", at the sound of his name, you felt your heart in your throat.

"Major Gale Cleven?, you asked carefully and grabbed his empty coffee cup.

He nodded and pointed a finger behind you. "Yeah, that guy over there—", your eyes widened at his actions and immediately grabbed his hand, lowering it.

"Bucky!", by now your cheeks were flaming red, the pilot only laughing at your expense. "Just... Go and have some breakfast, Major.", he saluted you mockingly and leaned down to place a kiss on your cheek.

"I'll see ya tomorrow, Y/N.", still flustered, you nodded, your eyes closing briefly.

Major Gale Cleven. Of course she was no stranger to that name. The man was respected not only for his good work, but also for his reputation. You knew that you couldn't possibly judge any man in this base that sought relief and freedom in their own way. But Major Cleven had never been caught doing anything you would reckon inappropriate or wild. The parties you attended with some of your friends were generally loud, your eyes would wander around, catching glimpse of a drunk Bucky singing his heart out. One man stood out to you and that was the blonde Major. He would always either lean against a wall or be comfortable in a chair, waiting for the return of his friend as his own eyes inspected the hall.

"I wish he'd dance.", one of your friends said dreamily, her chin supported by her chin.

"I wish he'd talk more.", said another, making the group chuckle.

Yet you didn't mind his quiet and reserved self - in fact he was even more intriguing. His hands lowering to pet the newest member of the crew - Meatball - and how a genuine smile always seemed to brighten up his face. You loved stealing glances at him, the thought of seeing him possibly for the last time always haunting you during the day. The thought alone moved you out of the comfort of your bed and you immediately started getting ready.

A blue, flowy dress adorned your body and little matching heels found your feet. You let the girls know about Bucky's invitation, to which they secretly giggled, feeling obviously flattered by it. There was no way you would've told them the truth, so you smiled a little and intertwined your arms together, finding the familiar hall.

The vibration from the loud music made you smile instantly and for a moment, you were just a girl that wanted to have some fun. The girl that handed coffees to broken men was going to be hidden tonight.

"My favorite coffee lady.", your immediate reaction was to roll your eyes and you swore you caught one of your friends swooning from the corner of your eye. Bucky grabbed your hand and made you twirl once, the fabric of your dress expanding, grazing his legs. "Pretty dress."

You nodded at him, feeling the familiar warmth stain your cheeks. "Thank you, John.", you thanked him with a small smile. You cleared your throat and introduced Bucky to your friends. They were a giggly mess, which you found rather amusing.

"Nice to meet you, ladies.", he nodded at them and locked eyes with Margaret, your closest friend. "Especially you.", his hand found hers as he brought it to his lips, eyes still locked with hers. A big smile tried to break on your face at the two, but you couldn't let them know.

"I, uh, I'll go grab a drink, okay?", you weren't sure if any of them heard you as you made your way to the bar area. Your smile was still intact as you ordered a fizzy drink for yourself, your eyes wandering round like they always did.

"Miss?", you turned around and barely caught yourself as you almost bumped into none other than Major Cleven. Your lips parted at the beauty before you.

"Major Cleven, hello.", you greeted him with a sweet smile, desperately trying to control your heartbeat. Gale smiled, nodding at you.

"You must be Bucky's good friend, Y/N.", the way your name rolled off his tongue made your knees weak. You leaned against the counter and found your drink.

"Yeah, I, uh, hand coffees, donuts... You name it.", you let out a little laugh and took a sip of your coke. Major Cleven moved to stand beside you, his gaze turning to yours once again.

"I know."

You stilled, the liquid still very much brushing your lips. You swallowed, turning his way, but he briefly turned to the bartender, asking for a ginger ale. He whisked the drink from the counter and looked at his usual spot in the back. Your eyes followed his gaze and you grimaced.

"God, Bucky.", you muttered, the sight of him making out with Margaret enough to make you want to vomit. Buck laughed from beside you, making you notice that it was your first time seeing him less closed off.

"Would you...", he started slowly, his gaze slowly raising back to meet yours. "Would you wanna go outside? It's not that cold and there's a bench...", your eyes remained on his, absolutely mesmerized by the way his blue eyes complimented his blonde hair.

"It's okay if you don't want to—"

Back to reality, you shook your head, a reassuring hand on his arm. "No, no, I'd love to Major.", you hadn't even realized your own actions. Buck felt a blush creeping in at your touch. He cleared his throat and took a step forward, silently holding his arm out for you.

You took his arm, your eyes low on the ground. You were in disbelief and only if you had paid more attention to the man beside you, you would've noticed that he was equally surprised. His breaths were short and his eyes searched every signal of possible discomfort radiating from you.

But you just kept smiling, your cheeks matching the color of your lipstick. Was it all because of him? It couldn't be, right? Buck didn't let his thoughts lead him to impossible destinations - he couldn't. It was true that Gale preferred his peace and quiet, which just meant that he had a lot of time to absorb every detail of his surroundings. You would never know, but he was actually the one that pushed Bucky to talk to you.

"C'mon, Buck.", Bucky slammed a weak fist against his friend's arm. "You can't be scared of talking to a girl. You flew in German territory a hundred times and you're scared of talking to Miss Coffee over there."

Buck shook his head, frustrated that his friend wasn't getting him. "Her name's Y/N."

Major Egan smirked and leaned against the back of his chair, having the perfect view of you handing coffees to pilots. "Y/N.", he said, the tone in his voice almost mocking. Gale glanced at him and clenched his jaw.

"Will you just introduce yourself to her? Once you're friends, you'll introduce me.", the plan was perfect, according to Major Cleven. But Bucky couldn't genuinely understand what was so difficult about talking to a girl. A girl that was all smiles anyways.

"Alright, alright.", Bucky slapped his thighs and stood up. "As you wish, Major."

Buck watched his friend walk up to you and was immediately jealous of his communications skills and most importantly, the smile you sent his way.

Major Egan showed you his empty coffee cup and made a dumb joke out of the situation, making you laugh a little. What a sight. You turned around and grabbed him a fresh cup of coffee, taking away his empty one.

"So?", Buck asked once his friend was sat down.

Bucky smiled at his coffee and looked up in realization. "Oh, yeah got more coffee. This is some good stuff—"

"John."

The Major sighed. "Ah, Gale, she's truly the easiest person to talk to. You crack a joke, you smile a little and there you have it."

Buck looked down, his expression bitter, angry with himself. He could fly B-17s yet he couldn't talk to a girl.

The night didn't start as he had planned. Bucky was supposed to introduce them and then after some small talk, he would've found his entertainment elsewhere, leaving you two alone. But no, Major Egan decided to do it his own way, almost purposely so that it was Buck approaching you first.

"I know that this is gonna sound stupid, but...", you started with a small laugh. You were both sat on a bench by a barrack, the sky bright with shiny stars. "Bucky said I was gonna meet a Buck."

The Major couldn't help but laugh, remembering his conversation with his friend. "Yeah and, uh, you understood Duck?"

Your laughter continued at the words. "Yes! And oh my god, I can't believe he told you!"

Gale shrugged, feeling immediately at ease once he heard your laughter. The laughter he only seemed to hear from far away.

"A duckling.", your words made his head snap to yours. A playful smile on his lips.

"A duckling?", he asked in amusement.

"If you were a Duck.", you said, barely noticing how much you were smiling around this man. "But since you are a Buck, then that makes you a Buckling."

His lips parted, his eyes stuck on you and the silly beauty of your words. You shook your head, swiftly apologizing, the foolishness of your language creeping in.

But Buck smiled and took hold of your hand, his heart racing. "I don't mind it. Only if it's from you."

You glanced at the hands between you - hands that belonged to you and Major Cleven. The girls' words still loud and clear in your head - he doesn't talk, he doesn't interact, he's a ghost of a man. Oh, how wrong they were. If they only had the chance to talk to Mr Prince Charming himself, they would understand

A smile was exchanged between the two of you, neither of you looking away.

"My Buckling?", you asked as the familiar blush stained your cheeks.

"Your Buckling.", he confirmed.

A/N: one of my favorite characters austin has done - literally couldn't wait to write about major cleven 😫💋 let me know what you thought

MASTERLIST buck cleven masterlist

austin 2025 digital calendar 🎀 austin phone case💋

[spaceyjessa]

Clone x OC Week Day 1 : Introduction

Pairings: Solé x Crosshair Rating: G / SFW Words: 1,092 Warnings: Order 66 Mention, brief mentions of grief, absolute second hand embarrassment (please my girl is a disaster I love her)

Synopsis: Solé is doing her best to adjust to life on Pabu, but after her life was turned upside down by Order 66, all she finds herself wanting is to go home to Naboo. Until she meets someone who might be even more out of place than she is.

@clonexocweek Thank you for hosting this event!

Pabu was few little pieces of the familiar wrapped up in a galaxy of unknowns. She had tried to adapt. Adaption was key. With enough work to keep her busy and on the verge of exhaustion she had found a way to accept the life happening around her. For better or worse. But she couldn’t shake the sense that it still wasn’t home. It wasn’t Naboo.

With foods she understood and soil that didn’t fight her every time she tried to grow a plant. Every simple thing she had taken for granted, every smell and sound and taste, was left behind on a world she didn’t recognize while she tried to pick up the pieces of her life. Solé shook the thoughts away as she strode into the marketplace. No, here is where I am. And that’s all there was too it. The marketplace was just as unfamiliar as the rest of Pabu, a breath of Naboo whispered by in the sunshine that fell along the stalls but the wares in them, the foods and trinkets, all refugees of another world left her feeling hollow. Her appetite had been growing thinner by the day and as someone who studied nutrition and food for a living she knew she would have to put her anxieties away and at least try to eat something.

She had been on Pabu for a few weeks, thrown by earthquakes, threatened by the Empire she was trying to escape, and finally a relative peace had settled. Solé wished her shaking hands and anxious heart would see it the same way. There were more refugees now. Like her, but not like her. Clones who had been betrayed by their leaders. By their own bodies. Shep had explained it all to her when she wasn’t able to face them, clued her into the truth of what had happened when he had brought some of them to her as patients.

Soldiers, battle weary and heavy, they seemed to adapt faster than her to the light buoyant atmosphere of the island or they would shuttle off to help the cause. The cause was something so vast that Solé had trouble really imagining it. A part of her ached for it. Ached for answers to what had happened. Esteemed senator dead, chancellor so different than he appeared, and the Jedi…her heart clenched and she thought of the brother she had known as a child. Such a bright eyed boy. The galaxy was a vacuum now sucking away anything familiar and leaving her…here.

It was silly really, but Solé could almost feel it was the Force that made her look up towards that one particular stall. A slender man was standing very still in front of the stall that was selling some sort of fruit that looked deceptively familiar to her homesick heart. The man was standing with stiff shoulders, scarring on one side of his head, and though he wasn’t as sturdily built as the others she could guess right away from his military bearing that he was a clone. He was looking between the fruits, a scowl deepening the lines around his mouth and brows knit together. He picked one up with his left hand, examined it, put it back.

He looked as out of his depth as she felt on that particular afternoon. “Do you need a hand?” Solé approached on instinct, it wasn’t her way not to help someone especially if it had anything to do with food. He didn’t respond at first until Solé sidled up next to him, repeating her question.

The man turned to face her fully and a fierce blush colored her fair skin.

Hand.

He only had one. Her earlier words ricocheted around in her head like a stampeding Shaak. One eyebrow raised and his brown eyes were full of caution, if not down right irritation. Solé did what she always did during confrontation or embarrassment. She made it worse.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean a hand in that sense—I meant do you need any help? Not that I don’t believe that you’re capable of helping yourself because of your disability—“ She was willing herself to just stop talking, she really was. Whatever other gibberish passed out of her mouth was put to a mercifully abrupt stop.

“Crosshair! Did you get everything?” A young blonde girl, bounded up to him and when his attention turned Solé took it as the opportunity that it was.

She wouldn’t necessarily say she ran from the situation, but she was at her little base — she couldn’t call it home — with her back firmly pressed against the closed front door, cheeks still burning from embarrassment before the pair had been able to turn back to her. Angry tears stung the corner of her eyes and she rested her closed fist against her forehead before running the thin braid she kept in her hair between her fingers. She tried to summon up some Jedi saying, something her mother had always whispered to her in times of distress to remind her of her brother, and came up short. All she could do was resign herself to a dinner of leftovers from the conservator and try to forget today had ever happened.

By the time Solé woke up the next morning the sting of embarrassment had lessened, at least partially. She had repeated the scene in her mind enough times, assured herself that it was a perfectly understandable accident and vowed never to make eye contact with that man again. Everything was fine.

After brewing a pot of caf, pouring the hot water from her kettle slowly over the ground beans and admiring the rich scent that reminded her of a thousand late nights and early mornings, she went outside. The sun was bright and she vaguely wondered if she had overslept again when her foot hit something on her tiny garden path.

A bag.

A bag full to the brim of yellow fruits with dimpled skin. Solé stooped and spied a note tucked into one side. She drew out the piece of flimsi and unfolded it as best she could with one hand as she took a sip of the still too hot caf.

‘Looks like you were the one who needed a hand. Ironic.’ Solé’s face burned even redder than it had the day before, but this time there was a smile too.

Author's Note: I'm so excited to be posting things for Solé finally! I've been developing her as a character since November and getting to share her is so exciting! Hope you enjoyed reading their first meeting <3

[cravinganotherworld]

Amorous - Final Chapter - Frontman x fem! reader.

WARNINGS: Suicide, mention of blood, death, heartbreak

NOTES: i Recommend listening to Iris by Goo Goo dolls for the extra heartbreak:)))

See other chapters here:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2, Part 1

Chapter 2, Part 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Wordcount - 1K

Tags: @cypherpt5fttaehyung @tinylawyerbluebird

“Y/N No!” In-ho’s voice is silenced by the ringing of a gun shot as you pull the trigger. He felt all of it, every bit of your pain as if he himself had taken the shot to his head. Time stands still as he watches your body fall to the floor and every cell in his body is telling him to move, to run to you…to save you but his legs wouldn’t carry him. All he could do was watch as you bled onto the floor creating the most perfect mosaic even in death, and the more you bled the more he realised what had happened. Slowly he began to walk over to you, taking caution with each step until his eyes land on your face. A small gasp escapes his lips as he falls to his knees beside you. Gently he lifts your head onto his lap, letting his back rest against the wall as he holds you. Leaning down he presses his forehead to yours and begins rocking you as tears start to fall from his eyes. 

“Please come back…please come back to me…. Please…. please” he whispers as his tears fall onto your cheeks. The sound of heavy footsteps fill the air as guards begin to make their way back to headquarters, In-Ho quickly lifts his head wiping away his tears and lovingly presses a kiss to your forehead before placing you gently on the ground and getting to his feet. As he stands the guards turn the corner and freeze in their steps as they watch In-ho look down over your body.

“Do not burn her body, put her in a coffin and send her back to the mainland” The guards nod their head in understanding and walk towards your body, before ether of them could touch you In-Ho roughly grabbed them by their arms.

“If anything happens to her, I promise you will wish to be in her place” he speaks sternly, venom running through his words. They gulp and nod their heads before In-ho let them go. He watches as they take your arms and legs and places you gently into the coffin that had been brought up by the circle guards.

“Wait” In-Ho whispers as they begin to close your coffin. He walks over to you and takes your hand in his, not caring that all the guards could see and brings it to his lips.

“I promise to find you in the next lifetime sweetheart” he presses a final kiss to your cold hand and places it across your stomach before walking away, tears threatening to spill once more.

2 years later

Winter was always your favourite time of the year, you loved being able to wrap up warm in a blanket with a hot chocolate in your hands, a book on your lap and your music playing softly as the snow fell delicately outside your window. Each year your grandfather would take you to the Christmas market, until he fell ill of course. Since you passed In-Ho became close with your grandfather, taking care of him now that you couldn’t and through him, he learnt so much about you. He only found himself falling deeper and that was the thing that kept destroying him and hardening his heart. All he wanted was to have you in his arms, to kiss you again…but he couldn’t, and it was his fault. A year after you died your grandfather also lost his life. In-Ho tried with all he had to save him, paid his medical bills, ensured he was comfortable and stayed with him until the very end. He buried him next to you.

In-Ho pulled on his coat and headed out into the cold, you would’ve loved today. The snow fell so delicately it blanketed everything like a work of art, he could only imagine how you’d look with snowflakes in your hair and the tip of your nose red from the cold. His heart lurched at the thought, and he started to head down the road towards the cemetery. As he walked through the gates, he saw your gravestone in the distance beautifully decorated and resting peacefully under the willow tree and smiled to himself. Soon enough he stopped in front of your stone.

“Hi sweetheart” he whispers and gently wipes the snow away as he once did with the tears on your cheeks. “I’ve missed you…. it’s been 2 years without you…today in fact” he smiled sadly at the thought “The days just seem to be getting harder; I find myself craving your smile, your touch…your kindness and warmth” he slowly knelt in front of you “It was never supposed to be this hard” he confessed. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around much; I had business to deal with…on the island” He takes a deep breath “I ended them…the games…losing you made me realise just how much I put on the line…just how much I hurt you and betrayed you…and I’m sorry” Tears begin to fall down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry sweetheart…if I could take back everything to have you back in my arms even for just a second, I wouldn’t even think twice” He looks around watching the snow fall faster now quickly covering everything on the ground, including In-ho.

“You made me feel again…feel things I never thought I could and without you I feel so empty…as if the other half of me is missing and the longer I stay here the more this feeling eats away at me…so” He takes a deep breath “I’m here to say goodbye Y/n…, if I stay I’m just waiting for the impossible…I’m waiting day and night for you to run into my arms and I know that will never happen…I have to let you go” he wipes his tears yet more quickly fill their places. ” Thank you…for everything, thank you for showing me that I can love again, thank you for loving me even when you knew you shouldn’t…thank you for letting me catch you” He whispers as he stands. He lovingly places his hand on your stone. “I love you y/n… I will always love you…I promise I will find you in every lifetime” In-Ho brings his fingers to his lips and kisses them before pressing them onto your headstone and walking away finally…letting you go.

[plutosillywrites]

imagine you’re a sniper on the field and your team has been compromised and killed— when you find them.. you also find the 141.

(this is my first post so please be nice 😞 i had an idea and just couldn’t contain it.)

It’s been 10.. no, 15 minutes? you can’t quite tell, your eyes are strained and tired from staring through a scope. the last thing you heard from your team was that they were moving in— “ETA, how copy?” your voice rings over the radio, choppy and almost unintelligible.

you get nothing but static cutting in and out, shit. fuck! now what? you can’t just leave them— and especially not without the intel.

you pack up your sniper, unhinging its stand and chamber and putting it into your bag— much easier to carry this way. Your scope tucked safely in one of the pockets, and your ammo in a cargo slot.

now, time to see what shit your team has stepped in now. you trudge ( unwillingly and undesirably may i add) down the stairs of the building you resided in, and rush out the door.

your eyes dart from one side of the street to the other— coast is clear. you make a break for it, running for the door that is creaked open slightly, you shove the door as much as you can and squeeze inside.

oh god, the blood— the smell.. it’s enough to make bile creep up your throat and a grimace appear on your face.

you’re team is clearly gone— whoever did this meant for you to find them.. almost like a warning. you grip the pistol at your side, you hear something— footsteps, maybe? you have no time to think on it when—

oh my. in any other circumstance, this man would have you on your knees with his looks but in this one— that’s not the case, with his closed fist flying right towards your face.

you duck, “Fucker!” you yell, your fist coming up and hitting him blow his jaw— ‘uppercut, motherfucker!’ you think, with a small— almost unnoticed smirk.

you feel hands grab your head— covering your eyes and mouth, while another set grabs your arms and holds them down.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, bonnie.” a scottish sounding voice starts, “you really know how’ta put up a figh’!” he says, and you can hear his smug smirk.

“what a shame that we can’t say the same for your team..” Another voice perks up, sounding more commanding.

“don’t speak on my team.” you grit out, you’re fists are clenched— although held back, the 141 can see just how much of a ‘threat’ you are. you wriggle and try to break free from their grasp, but that just earns you a scoff.

“Stop strugglin’. you couldn’t escape even if you tried.” a deep, british accent resounds. you hear shuffling before someone says something you honestly wish you had heard wrong.

“We should take ‘er back to base. could be useful— maybe we can get her to talk about why shes tryna get dirt on us.”

oh fuck, no. no, no— they must have you mistaken, right? you were here for info on the 141– and even though you’d never seen them— this couldn’t be them right?

wouldn’t that be something if it was..

[forgeofthenine]

Rolan crept though one of the towers smaller, more subject focused libraries, walking lightly to avoid making any unnecessary noise. As he made his way through the room, he put the books he had taken out for study earlier in the day back in their respective places.

He returned the last book to its proper place in one of the bookcases in the back of the room. As Rolan went to leave, he passed a chaise tucked away off to the side, the soft glow of the magically lit sconces flickering pleasingly and casting delicate shadows on the stone walls and across the figure laying there, the book she’d presumably been reading as she fell asleep held open against her chest by the hand resting atop it. With each breath, he watched the book rise and fall with her, taking just a moment to preserve how at peace she looked, how much younger she seemed without the weight of the worlds expectations and problems upon her, even if just for a moment.

He sat on the edge of the chaise, perching himself just beside her legs. He reached out and brushed the hair that had fallen across her face away. He couldn’t believe how quickly she’d gotten under his skin, how soon he’d gotten used to the fact that she’d be there. He yearned for her, a phrase he hadn’t understood until recently and one he almost wished he still didn’t. Only almost, he found he could never truly regret anything about meeting her.He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her forehead, lingering much longer than he needed to for the gesture. He pulled back and watched her a moment more, golden eyes lingering on soft pink lips for just a second before he got up again. He left and came back to the library a moment later, a soft blanket over one arm. He covered her with the blanket, making sure no part of her is left in the cold, before making his way out again, back to his own room, to spend the night dreaming of the day he might be able to hold her freely and whenever he wanted.

One day.

-🪻

Flower anon, the person you are-

Once again, I love everything you send in. Yearning Rolan who hasn't made the first move yet is so dreamy. I actually still have a few other asks from you too in my drafts that I've been hoarding lmao

Also also, just imagine if you wake up after kiss but pretend to sleep long enough for him to drape the blanket over you. I'd die.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

I am SO excited for the throuple finally happening i think the only person more excited than me is Eddie

MAX 🔼 PLS 💚💚

YEAH!

100 for throuple, and this is definitely NSFW so under the cut:

---

She is. That’s the thing; she is so beautiful. She has always been a big bright lightbulb in a room full of moths. And Buck gets to see her now. At the same time, the inverse is true. Buck is so radiant. So fucking magnetic. And now Shannon doesn’t have to stop herself or hold herself back.

Wow. Life is good. 

Buck begins kissing down Shannon’s neck, but she interrupts him to pull off his tee shirt. 

“Jesus,” she mutters, a fingernail running over the lines of one of his tattoos. 

“Just Buck is fine,” he winks. 

“I’m going to ignore that you said that,” she replies. 

They continue, conversation thrown aside. He’s kissing her everywhere. The same way he does to Eddie. Mouth like an explorer across her shoulder, collarbones, down to her breasts. Eddie can practically feel those lips on his own skin. Can practically taste her on his own tongue. He has to take his hand away from himself for a moment. He’s getting a little too heated. A little too close. His breathing has become loud and heavy, and he doesn’t want to ruin this moment. This perfect fucking moment. 

Buck’s hands are reaching up Shannon’s long skirt. Tracing along her thighs. They’re grinding into each other in a way Eddie can only imagine is absolutely tantalizing. Shannon’s back has started to arch a little. Her hair is spilling down her back and Buck swaps a hand around to gently take a handful of it. 

Eddie is practically shaking. 

“More?” Buck offers.

“Keep going,” Shannon exhales.

“Then pause,” he says, kissing her neck. “We need condoms.”

“Oh,” she breathes. “Right.”

“Yeah, oh right,” Buck laughs. “I know what happens with the two of you.”

Shannon swats at his shoulder. “Only twice.”

Buck laughs brightly. 

Shannon swings a leg over his lap to climb off of him. Then she turns to look at Eddie. She stops short, taking in the sight of him. His unzipped fly. His completely tented boxers. The vacant sort of look he’s sure is in his eyes. There’s not a drop of blood left in his brain, probably. 

“Wow,” Shannon whispers. “Look at you. You weren’t kidding, last time.”

Oh, it’s even worse now. Now that he’s had both of them. Now that having both of them is an option. 

“That was…” Eddie trails off. “You’re both…”

Shannon smirks. “We’re both what, Eddie?”

“Gorgeous,” Eddie says, barely audible.

Shannon closes the tiny distance between them, bends down, and kisses him. 

“Don’t just watch the whole time,” she whispers into his lips.

“Watching has been pretty great,” Eddie admits.

“I don’t want you to just watch,” Shannon says. 

Well. Her wish is his command, today. He stands up, kisses her. They stumble back onto Buck’s bed. Eddie finishes pulling off her skirt. Buck is standing at the nightstand, watching them. And there’s something in his eyes that tells Eddie he doesn’t have to feel crazy. Watching is good. Observing is sexy. But yeah, he’ll be damned if he just lets Buck stand there, either.��

“What are we doing then?” Eddie asks. 

Buck smirks. 

“I’ve got a few ideas.”

Eddie looks at Shannon.

“You choose,” he says. “You’re the one that’s been locked in the house for months on end.”

Shannon smirks. She cranes her head to look at Buck.

“I want you lying on the bed.”

ii.

Shannon wakes up the next morning feeling all sorts of things. Hungover, for one. Exerted, for another. But also, sort of nervous? 

She’s wedged between them when she comes back to lucidity. Which, admittedly, is more fun at night than in the morning. She’s feeling a little claustrophobic. Buck has an arm draped over both her and Shannon. Eddie is pressed up against her from behind. Jesus. She remembers when she and Eddie first got together he’d been a super clingy sleeper. That had all changed after Afghanistan. And… As much as she felt that was sad, she also isn’t a huge cuddler. 

Shannon tries to wiggle out from between them. She feels bad about it, honestly. Last night was… Well, it was amazing. She loved every minute of it. She would very much like the explore that dynamic further. Explore reconnecting with Eddie further. And learning more about Buck, because wow. He’s really something. No wonder Eddie is always in a great mood lately. 

Her attempt to get out from between the two of them without either of them noticing fails. Well, half fails. 

“Shan?” Eddie whispers. 

“Just need to use the restroom,” she lies. 

Eddie chuckles. “You hate this.”

“Shh,” she hushes him. “No! I just… I mean, you both have an absurd amount of body heat.”

This only serves to make Eddie laugh more. He sits up and presses a kiss to her cheek.

“Coffee?”

“Please,” Shannon agrees.

“Wake up Buck,” Eddie says. “We can’t keep Chim waiting forever, poor guy.”

As Eddie heads downstairs, Shannon nudges Buck a little. 

“Hey,” she says. 

He does not budge. 

“My god,” she says sternly. “Is this what it’s like to not have children? I could be robbing you.”

Buck cracks a singular eye open.

“Don’t do that,” he mumbles.

“Good morning,” she says. “We have to get going.”

Buck smiles up at her. 

“We had sex.”

“We did,” she confirms. 

“It was good sex,” he says. 

“It was.”

It really was. 

“And guess what else?” Buck says through a yawn, sitting up beside her.

“What?” She laughs.

“As of today, it’s August,” Buck says. 

“Wow,” Shannon nods. “Didn’t even need to check your phone for this one.”

He rolls his eyes. “No, no, no. Don’t you remember?”

She frowns. “Remember what?”

“Last August,” he says. 

“One comes every year,” she agrees. 

He narrows his eyes.  “You don’t remember?”

“No, I don’t remember,” Shannon says. “I have given birth and quarantined with an infant since then.”

[skarsgards-bill]

Barbarian (2022)

Dir. Zach Cregger

[teyrnacousland]

I've seen the headcanon that Lucanis' mother, Caterina's perfect heir, was actually similar to Illario in some ways. That she was calculating, ruthless, ambitious, obedient... all the things Caterina overlooks in Illario because Caterina sees her favourite daughter's deep brown eyes and quiet, controlled demeanor and careful planning in Lucanis.

But I am also attached to the idea that the opposite is true too. That Illario's mother shared similarities with Lucanis; that she was empathetic and stubborn, with a slight rebellious streak. But she was always outgoing and charming, was more impulsive with her emotions, and was always sharper with her tongue than with a sword, so Caterina only sees her in Illario.

I just love the idea that Caterina can't look beyond the surface and see who her grandsons really are because on some level she can't see past the ghosts reflected in their eyes. She can't see that the quiet brown eyed boy is is more of the gentle hearted rebel, and the one with blue eyes and a shining, fake smile is the ruthless leader who would do anything she asked.

[beef-brisket]

Adam leaned into the kiss for only a moment before he quickly moved away, and jumped off the bed.

Adam: Y-You know, out of all the shit you've said to me- that's the worst- most c-cruel thing-! The fuck, Lucifer?! I'm not hot- so the fuck?! The ACTUAL fuck?!

Lucifer was a bit taken aback, but he's not surprised by Adam's outburst. He's pretty much a giant, glorified child at this point.

But, he did find it a bit strange that what Adam was made about was pretty much being called "hot".

Lucifer thought that was his whole thing, calling himself hot, and fuckable. So, what was happening?

Lucifer: I... okay, hold up. Let's take a step back. What's happening?

Adam: W-What do you mean, "what's happening"?! I- you- you said I let myself go-! And I have-! So, how the fuck am I hot one minute- and f-fucking disgusting the next?!

Lucifer: I... A-Adam-.

Adam: So what, have you teamed up with Bambi or something?! Is this the worst fucking joke, Lucifer-! I know I. Fucking gross, alright?! I've delt with the angels- amd Sera- fucking Sera, say I'm a fuckimg embarrassment- just- I-I can't fucking deal with this.

Lucifer: Adam! Wait!

Lucifer reached out and grabbed Adam's arm, stopping him from leaving. He could feel how much the first man was shaking under his grip, and by the way he turned his head away, he was crying.

Lucifer: Adam, I swear, I'm not lying. I shouldn't have said those things to you, I was just... look, I was wrong, so wrong. You look amazing, really. You were made to be perfect, Adam-.

Adam: Lilith's perfect. I'm not... I'm a fucking dud. Even after everything, they still preferred her... n-no matter what I did, it wasn't enough... I-I'm not perfect, I never was... c-can you let go, please...?

Lucifer stared at Adam's back in shock, he's never heard him sound so quiet and weak. He didn't like it. He'd rather Adam yell and scream, instead of this.

Lucifer: No... I won't let go.

Standing, Lucifer went to move in front of Adam, but he turned away, covering his face.

Lucifer: I swear, I'm not lying, Adam. And you didn't deserve the shot you went through... I thought Heaven would have helped you or something. But that was just wishful thinking... they can't help but make things worse... and that goes for me, too. I hurt you, and I refuse to do it again.

Taking Adam's hands, Lucifer was finally able to see a part of Adam's face. He hasn't seen Adam cry since Eden. And it hurt to see as much now as it did then.

Lucifer: I... can't even imagine what Heaven has said or done to you. But you didn't deserve it, Adam.

Adam scoffed: ...You sound like her.

Lucifer: Who?

Adam: ...Charlie... how did you two assholes have such a sweet kid...?

Lucifer laughed: No idea... can I tell you a secret?

Adam: ...I guess. If you want.

Lucifer looked down at Adam's hands, smiling at the chipped black nail polish. He remembered laughing at the different ways Adam tried to disguise his new demonic features. His claws included.

Lucifer: She reminded me of you... she still does.

Adam: ...I'm not like her. She's... hopeful. I'm not that...

Lucifer: ...When she smiled, I saw you. She was so curious and wanted to see and touch everything. She sees the best in everything... it takes a lot to bring her down... and... I don't want her to get hurt and... end up-.

Adam: Like me?

Lucifer: What-?! I... y-yeah- but not for the reasons you think! I meant... I don't want her hurt. For people to use her- to take her for all she's worth, then to throw her away like she's nothing... I don't want her to end up closed off and ridiculed. And, when I see you... I hate that I was the cause of your pain. I couldn't get out of my own shit to see how I was affecting you or other people. When I see you, I feel shame. You're the only thing I regret about my actions. it is how I hurt you. You're... you're so important to me, and I just...

Adam: killed me...?

Lucifer: ...K-Killed you... and... I regret that so much.

Adam nods, looking away: It wasn't all your fault... I wasn't... you know, important enough, ans that was my fault- I should have tried harder-.

Lucifer: Hey, no. That's- that's not it, Adam, I swear.

Adam tilted his head: I wasn't... smart enough?

Lucifer: No-.

Adam: ...I'm not blonde?

Lucifer: What-?! No! Of course not!

Adam: Okay... can't give birth?

Lucifer: Uh-.

Adam: Ambitious? I didn't know... what else.

Lucifer: ...Is this what you've thought...? For all these years...?

Adam shrugged: I couldn't figure out what I did. Or what I didn't do... I just figured out it was me. I did everything wrong, nothing right, so why try? And... then you kiss me. Why now? I'm broken- why didn't you do this when I was perfect, when I was something important? Why now...? I was nothing when I was an angel, but I'm something when I'm a monster?

Lucifer: Adam. Stop. That's not it.

Adam laughed: Then what is it? How can you feel something for me when I'm at my lowest...? You don't even know me.

Lucifer: Of course, I know you, I've known you since the beginning.

Adam: I'm not the same person... I died. More than twice. I'm not the same. I'm worse. You can't like me, why would you like me? No one likes me- you of all people can't like me- you're lying to me.

Lucifer: Adam- enough. Breathe, okay. I... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I... it... it wasn't your fault. In the garden.

Adam: Yes, it was. You told me to leave, remember? Said I was sick, wrong, a failed prototype-.

Lucifer was definitely panicking now. He forgot he said any of those things. Everything flooded back to him, hitting him like a brick to the face.

Lucifer: Please, Adam- I... shit, I don't know what to say... I can blame you for the exterminations all I want, but at the end of the day, it's my fault. All of it. I've made so many mistakes, Adam... and hurting you was the biggest. None of it was your fault, what I did... what Lilith did was wrong. We were so stuck I'm our ideals and our plan that we didn't see the bigger picture. I... I didn't want to hurt you... I really thought we were helping. I wanted to help both of you... but Lilith was focused on herself. Then Eve.

Lucifer ran his thumb over Adam's hands. He smiled at how long his fingers were, even though they looked so different, they were so perfect.

Lucifer: So much has changed since Eden, and... while not all for the best, there have been some good things- I think. I've had a lot of time to thing- a LOT. And I want to make it up to you. I really, really do. And I meant what I said before. You're fucking hot, Adam. Gorgeous. I know you think you're a monster- but I think you're stunning. And fuck Bambi, I don't talk to him, Adam, I'm nit working with him in some scheme, and I hate you think that. That you think everyone is against you, thinking those about you. I want to convince you that you deserve to be loved, that you're still perfect. Please, Adam. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but please let me try and earn your trust again.

Adam stared down at Lucifer. Everything is screaming at him to run and run far.

What if he leaves? Of course, he'll leave. It'll only be a matter of time. But, staring into Lucifer's eyes, he can't help but see his angel, even though he's so different.

Does he want his angel back or proof that he could be loved?

Adam glanced at the two photos on the bed. Did Lucifer mean what he said? That he looked hot?

Adam: ...O-Okay...

Lucifer smiled widely and kissed Adam's hands: Thank you, Adam. Thank you so much, Adam!

Adam smiled awkwardly as Lucifer beamed up at him. He was like a weird, little ball of sunshine. Or hellfire.

Lucifer: So~... can I keep your photo~?

Adam: W-What?!

Lucifer: You can keep mine!

Adam: ...F-Fine, just... don't show it to anyone, okay?

Lucifer: Oh, darling, I would destroy anyone who dares to try and lay eyes on it~.

Pin Me (To Your Bed)

@beef-brisket

Happy Valentine's Day Everyone! 💖

-

Charlie was so excited to help Angel set up his idea, it was a great way to help people with their body image and self confidence.

Adam was leaning against the wall as he watched the photo shoot area be set up. Angel wanted everyone to do a pin up photo shoot for Valentine's Day to help their self-esteem and feel sexy.

Angel: Hey mister pouty pants, come help me with the outfits.

Adam sighed and made his way over, the clothing rack held many linguire outfits, short shorts, and leather pieces of clothing.

Adam: Angel, I've seen tissues bigger than this thing.

He held up what looked like a G string and Angel laughed.

Angel: Oh relax! And it's all in fun big guy, besides if you wore something sexy who's to say short, pale, and hunky won't be all over you.~

Adam flushed, he knew it was a bad idea to tell Angel about his feelings for Lucifer. But as long as the short King doesn't hear he guessed it was fine.

Adam: Shut up.

Speaking of Lucifer, he was just done hanging the lights when he floated down smiling at the pair.

Lucifer: Those are umm.... Interesting outfits Angel.

Angel: Aren't they?~ You're dressing up too aren't ya short King?

Lucifer coughed into his fist: W-Well, maybe. I have an image to maintain I can't wear anything too scandalous. You understand.

Adam tried and failed to not picture Lucifer only wearing that G string that would barely cover his dick.

Angel smirked: Oh yeah of course.~ I'll make it all very tasteful for everyone, all within a comfort zone they like. But how about you show a little skin? Like right here.~

He pointed to his stomach area and Lucifer felt warm, he looked at Adam who was looking at him maybe zoned out. Would he like that?

Lucifer: Y-yeah I guess that's fine.