#i wish i were meeting them so i could show them

[moonstruckme]

hi Mae could do a reader with Spencer (or any boy u want!) where she's feeling super nauseous and throwing up a lot and trying to hide it from him like may be it's early on and she feels embarassed? I went out to brunch with a friend and idk what happened but I think I got food poisoning I've already thrown up twice and still feel so so sick

Ugh food poisoning is the worst, but I hope you're over it now lovely! Thanks for requesting <3

cw: vomitting, nausea

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

Part of you thinks you should cancel. You’re not a very good time right now, nauseated and shaking a little from the exertion of walking from your car to the host’s stand. Spencer deserves a date that doesn’t have to scope out bathrooms like escape routes the moment she enters the restaurant. But oh, he’d been so sweet in asking you. All soft eyes and gentle voice, and he’d sent you the menu to make sure you found something you liked before he made the reservation. You know it can’t have been easy to get, at a nice place like this on a Saturday night. Really, at the end of the day, there is simply no world where you cancel on Spencer. 

You paste on a smile for the hostess, wondering if she’d find it odd if you leaned on her stand for support just for a moment. “Hi,” you say. “Um, I’m meeting someone, I think he’s already…” 

A touch at your elbow prompts you to turn. 

“Hi,” Spencer says. 

You go a bit breathless at the sight of him. Spencer in a suit. His hair still messy as if he ran his hands through it after leaving home, the top button of his shirt open like he had it done up all the way and then felt too constricted. He looks handsome and endearing and nice. Your sundress and half sweated-through makeup feel suddenly, hopelessly inadequate. 

“Hi,” you say back. “Sorry, I thought you’d already be sitting down.” 

“I wanted to wait for you,” he replies simply. He turns to the hostess. “For Reid?” 

As she walks you to your table, it dawns on you what an idiot you are. Possibly the only thing you could do to Spencer that would be worse than cancelling on him would be to show up as you are now. Listless and unprepared for conversation. You’re going to have to order either the smallest thing on the menu or nothing at all, and he’s going to think you don’t want to be here with him. And for yourself, you want to experience this—a first date, with Spencer, and quite possibly your only date—with all the appropriate butterflies and nervousness. Instead, you just feel…tired. And sick. 

“This is really nice,” you say as you sit down. 

“Yeah?” Spencer reaches for the carafe in the center of the table, pouring water into your glass and then his own. “I’m glad you think so. I’ve only been here once, but I thought it was good then, so. I hope you like the food.” 

He spills a little bit of water on the tablecloth, missing his glass. Winces as sharply as if he’d shattered it. Oh god; he’s nervous. You’re going to so disappoint him. 

“Sorry I was late.” You take your water, the cool glass against your hand a relief. “I was…” Well, you were vomiting in your bathroom. “I got a bit tied up on my way out.” 

“That’s okay,” he says easily. “You look really beautiful.” 

You wish you could tell yourself he was only a good liar. You feel clammy, and disgusting, and entirely undeserving of sitting across from him, but it’s all earnestness in Spencer’s puppy brown eyes. 

“Thank you.” Your voice has gone soft with sincerity. “You look very handsome, too. I’ve never…I don’t think I’ve seen you in a suit.”

Spencer smiles, bashful. “I should probably wear them more for work. Most of my team does.” 

“I like what you wear,” you say. “It suits you. Very professor-y.” 

Drinking water was a bad idea. You’ve been too greedy for the cool feel of it going down your torn-up throat; your glass is nearly empty already, and already it wants back up. 

“It would probably be more professional if I dressed like the others, though.” He gives a one-shouldered shrug. Adorable. “I am a professor, but I’m also a profiler, so…” Spencer’s smile slips when you swallow against the nausea tightening your throat. “Are you okay?” 

You press your lips into a smile. “Yeah, sorry. I don’t think there’s anything unprofessional about your regular clothes. I like your cardigans.” 

“They’re not…they’re not unprofessional, I guess, but I…” You can see Spencer’s brain working, his eyes moving over your face as you struggle to appear attentive. “Sorry, are you sure you’re okay? You look uncomfortable.” 

You could almost laugh, if you weren’t feeling so awful. Trust Spencer to tell it like it is. 

“I’m okay,” you say. “Sorry, I’m not feeling great, but I’m fine.” 

“You’re not?” Spencer looks troubled. Sad, puppy brown eyes. 

Oh, and there are the nerves you’d been missing. Malicious, evil butterflies turning your stomach into an inhospitable environment. 

You stand, your chair squeaking against the floor. “I’m so sorry,” you say in a rush. “I’ll be right back.” 

You are not, unfortunately, able to keep that promise. You spend the next twenty minutes kneeling in a bathroom stall, trying to convince yourself they probably keep the floors very clean in a nice restaurant like this while your body rejects the water you had and then several phantom meals it suspects you might’ve had while it wasn’t paying attention. When you finally emerge, Spencer is waiting outside the bathroom with a glass of water. 

“Thanks,” you murmur, taking it from him. You’re wary of repeating your mistakes, but you take a small sip to appease him before simply giving in and pressing the cool glass to your temple. 

Spencer assesses you with his gaze. You resign to it, knowing he’ll have you figured out by now whether you make it easy for him or not. 

“How long have you been sick for?” he asks softly. 

“It’s not contagious,” you want him to know. “It’s food poisoning, I’m pretty sure.” 

“That’s not…what I’m worried about.” Spencer sounds almost hurt, but his touch is gentle as he brings his knuckles to your forehead. “You didn’t have to come if you weren’t feeling well.” 

“I’m sorry,” you sigh. You’re too exhausted to pretend at being anything else anymore. “It was stupid. I didn’t want to bail on you, but instead I’m ruining it.” 

“You’re not ruining it.” His first knuckle moves almost imperceptibly, a tiny caress. “This isn’t your fault. We can do this another time. Did you drive here?” 

“Yeah,” you say meekly. 

Spencer frowns. “Can I take you home? You’re too hot to be driving yourself.” 

He flushes instantly, though you weren’t going to say anything. 

“That’s not what I meant.” 

“I know.” 

“Here.” He guides you to a bench, his hand ever so gentle on your waist. “Wait here, okay? I’ll grab our stuff.” 

You’ve fully given into wretchedness. You have no shame about resting the side of your head against the wall, closing your eyes until Spencer returns with a touch to your shoulder. He’s carrying his jacket and your bag, and the sympathetic look the hostess shoots you says that he’s conveyed you’ll be abandoning your reservation. 

“You don’t have to drive me,” you say as Spencer leads you outside, one hand at your back like he’s afraid you’ll keel over. “I can get home alright. I don’t want to throw up on your nice suit.” 

“I thought you liked my cardigans best.” If you didn’t know better, you’d say he was teasing you. “Anyway, the idea that you could be sick again this soon isn’t consistent with the idea that you could get home alright.”

It’s so him, the way he reasons this out, like he’s outlining an argument you’d never honestly expect to win. It reminds you that you’re on a date with Spencer Reid, and that makes you feel worse. 

You let him shepherd you to his car and sit you in the passenger seat. He buckles his seatbelt, looks over to see that yours is on, and his hand twitches as if it’s going to reach for yours before rerouting to the ignition. 

“Spence…” 

“Hm?” 

“Just, thank you. And I’m sorry, for making us leave.” 

“It’s okay.” He says it so easily, like a given. He does reach for your hand now, his fingers closing over yours to give the gentlest of squeezes. “You don’t have to be sorry. You didn’t ask to be sick.” 

“I’m really sorry I ate that sketchy pasta last night.” 

Spencer laughs. It’s a lovely sound, lovely enough to make you smile despite the roiling of your stomach. 

You say, in a softer voice, “I think it would have been a really nice date.” 

“We’ll find out,” he says surely. “Maybe next week, if you’re not doing anything. We could come back here, or go somewhere if seeing that bathroom again will make you uncomfortable. I know that for some people nausea can be a Pavlovian response. You spent…a long time in there.” 

You stifle a groan, leaning your head against the window and turning your face in humiliation. Spencer’s thumb stroking down the side of your hand makes it all worth it.

[thedeadtalker]

-my grandfather was 8 when he and his family were rounded up on the Oregon coast, kept in a livestock pen for 3 very rainy days, then put into a cattle car to be carried out to the reservations in the east.

-my grandmother had two brothers and sister who were sent to mission school and never returned. They said they ran away. They lied.

-My mom remembers when Indians got enough citizenship to vote in Oregon. She describes her parents and their friends discussing if the should do it -vote -or if it was trick to register them.

-My friend took his grandmother out for her 100th birthday. He asked her what she thought were the most important things to happen during her lifetime. She told him: free wifi and the legal end of segregation.

-I remember those fucking nuns in mission school. I only went 1 year when the laws changed and we could go to other schools. We could live with our parents and ride a bus to school and back again and sleep that night in our own home. I remember that, you fuckers.

-I remember that my mom and two of her sisters gave birth in a hospital connected to the mission, and they didnt know for years that they'd gotten botched steralizations against their wishes and without their knowledge. I remember my parents desperatly trying to have more children. Theyd always wanted a bunch of kids. The house my dad built had many empty guestrooms. Eventually they sold it. I remember my mom having to have a hysterectomy 2 years ago because of all the health problems caused by the fucked up surgery. I remember sitting in a meeting and one of the nurses there having to put me through a fainting protocol because i got a text from my stepfather that during the hysterectomy they discovered one of mom's damned ovaries was just fucking gone. I wonder sometimes if some sick fuck retired doctor kept a genuine Indian ovary in a jar in his office. I wonder if his nazi kids and grandkids pull it out to show to guests as a conversation point. I think about how whites were paid piecework for Indian scalps amd seeing one dried out and leathery in an antique store in a small town in Idaho. There is evil in the Americas. The nazis were here long before they were ever in Europe.

- I remember my highschool history teacher showing us the number tattooed on his wrist. I remember him showing us all these recordings of ordinary German citizens talking about how they didn't see anything wrong happening. How there must have been some sort of perfecrly mundane reason for the endless smoke pouring from the ovens in the camp up in the hill. How it was all just politics. How they were reassured that all the people who were taken had just moved in the night, or were much happier wherever they'd gone to. "But you saw them all: the Jews, the other prisoners going into the camp. But you never saw them leave. Didn't you think that was odd?" "We just figured they'd moved from the camp in the night while we were sleeping." "Where?" "What do you mean?" "Where did you all think they went -in the middle of the night?" "Oh. We didn't know." "Didn't you wonder?" "Why would we?"

- I remember that same teacher explaining how the nazis had gotten a lot of their ideas from the US government's Native American policy. The death camps were modelled after our reservations. The dehumanizing and the stories of savages/gremlins that ate white babies and were less than human were based on the clever marketing campaign set up to not just enable the settler take over, but used to unite the fragmented people of newly forming colonial nation. He fucking showed us. There is publically available documentation of all of this.

-I remember getting put on the no fly list. I remember finding out about it because when we tried to buy tickets for the whole family to travel down to New Mexico for my granduncle's funeral the whole purchase was bounced. We were told why that might be the case so we tried seperate purchases for everyone. Me. It was me. Several years later my roommate's family friend -an old white guy with some pull, found out why. I was teaching K-3 and moonlighting as a computer programmer back then. And I'd printed some photos of holidays around the world to share with my students on the same computer I wrote code from. My own computer, in my own office, in my own home. He said it also didn't help that I wasn't white.

-I remember that fucker's first time in office: I remember seeing my coworker snatched from the elevator by ice agents and shoved into an unmarked van. He was a 3rd generation American.

-I remember having to warn the non-white, non-abled, non anything a nazi would want to gas you for residents of the dvsat shelter we worked with to not go out at night, not go out alone, not walk on these specific streets or go into these specific shops. I remember the time a native Hawaiian chick on my caseload didn't come back when expected and everyone was out of their mind with worry. She came back, tear-streaked and shaking, and told us about how she'd gotten lost (not in Hawaii any more, Dorothy) and ended up in one of the neighborhoods she was supposed to avoid, and being chased by some of the proud boys that patrolled our city streets in their ridiculous be-flagged pickups, and how some nearby restuarant diners had rushed her into the restuarant, and the staff there had hid her in the pantry, and all the diners lied and said they hadn't seen her. My teacher read Anne Frank to us in 6th grade. Do they still read that in schools?

-I think about that time I went into a DMV and the woman behind the counter told me to "sit over there," next to two men, and well away from the other patrons. Then a highway patrol officer came over and told us to go with him. In the parking lot he explained that he'd been called to take us to an immigration detention center. But instead he directed us to a "safe" DMV 40 miles away and walked away muttering about having had it up to here with those idiots in there. The two American Samoan men started laughing. Honestly, I didn't feel like laughing. I didn't feel like anything. I was thinking about the mission school and wondering if the detention center looked like it had.

-I've spent the last couple of weeks handing out flyers in different languages. I don't use an interpreter. I have no way of knowing if I can trust them. But somehow I manage to convey to the people I visit in field hand huts and steamy laundries that they are in a sanctuary state and what that means. That no one in our offices will turn them away or turn them in. At least I hope Im conveying that. Then I tell them, using paper language dictionaries if needed (librarians are superheros) how to get away, who to talk to, how to find the big dipper. I think a lot of my high school history teacher and those faded numbers on his wrist.

Oh I know they're coming for me first. Im your canary.

[lostinlovingrevery]

Vans Valentines - Lovebirds

Origins! Logan X F! Reader

Vans Valentines

A/N: It's almost 3 am that i'm posting this. Idk even know what happened. it's like I blacked out typing this. Ironically I started out not liking anything but I just kept going (just like them lol). You'll see when you see the word count. Theres next to no plot. just fluff and smut. I haven't even made the graphics for this yet but I really wanted to post this so I'll do it later. I love this btw.

Plot: It's Valentines day, and you and Logan can't keep your hands off each other

Warnings: Smut. So much smut. MDNI!, a lot of fluff too, established relationship, unprotected PiV, multi creampies, Oral (both f! and m! recieiving), fingering, car sex, kitchen sex, valentines sex, just sex in general, hair pulling, one (1) ass smack I think, petnames, babydoll is the most common, a guest appearance of certain character (he just showed up idk), there's no plot really. just fluff and smut. I'm so tired. probably grammer and spelling mistakes.

Word Count: 7355

You woke up to the smell of cooked bacon and fresh brewed coffee, wafting to your nose. You opened your eyes, sunlight beaming through the cracks of your curtain. Turning your head, you found the space that your husband filled by your side was empty. 

You sat up, a small yawn escaping you as you stretched your back out, before pulling off the comforter and stepping onto the cold bare wood floors. A slight shiver ran down your back as you wrapped your arms around yourself- clad in nothing but a pretty slip on that Logan gifted you a while back, you made your way to the kitchen, following the warm aroma of food and coffee. 

Stepping inside the small kitchen of the little cabin you and Logan resided in, you smiled at the sight of your husband. His tall frame at the oven, as he flipped slices of bacon in a pan. A plate of pancakes sat on the table, next to a bowl of sliced fruit. 

You snuck up behind him, (although you know he does know you’re behind him, y’know, because of his surprior senses) Your arms wrapped around his waist, as you pressed your body into his firm self, hugging him tight. You could feel the rise of and fall of his breathing, bringing you a sense of comfort.

“Morning bub.” You heard his warm voice greet you, as he turned, shuffling around so that you were now facing each other. He looked down at you with a warm regard, fondness in his eyes and a small smile on his lips. 

“Morning.” You hummed back, moving onto your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his lips. He leaned his head down to meet you halfway, smiling bigger once he felt your lips on his. “Happy Valentine's day.” You whispered.

“It’s Valentines?” He asks in a mock surprise voice. You rolled your eyes. 

“Mm. It’s literally the easiest date to remember.” 

“Our wedding date is easier to remember,” He says warmly, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you against him. “Cause that was the best day of my life.”

You giggled, playfully hitting his shoulder. “Nu uh!” 

“No, you’re right. The best day was when you finally put out.”

You gasped, shoving him again, feigning anger but he kept you close, chuckling warmly as he leaned down to bury his lips onto your neck. You bit your lip, closing your eyes and tipping your head back as you gave in to him, leaning into his body as he pressed open-mouth kisses over your neck and up to your jaw. 

“Mm. I wish you didn’t have to work today.” You say softly. 

“I know.” He mumbles, pressing chaste kisses to your lips. 

“You should quit.”

He chuckles warmly. “Then who’s gonna pay to keep you spoiled?” 

“I don’t need anything. Just you.”

He hums, pressing his lips to yours again, his hands on your hips pulling you closer. He then moves to kiss your cheek. “I figured I’d make you breakfast before I go.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” You say softly. 

“Yeah I do. Gotta take care of my girl.” He says, moving to finish the bacon, putting the cooked pieces onto a plate with paper towels, soaking the extra grease. He lets go of you, moving across the kitchen to grab silverware while you grab the two plates he’d put out for you both, and begin serving the pancakes, eggs, bacon, and sliced fruit that he had prepared. 

While eating, you reached over, swiping a bit of syrup off the corner of Logan's mouth, and he turned, grabbing your wrists and licking the syrup off your finger. You saw that look in his eye- the look that screamed trouble as he stood up from his seat- the chair screeching against the floor, and his lips crashed onto yours. Your seat screeched against the floor as you stood up, Logan swiped the dishes to the side- several of the dishes falling to the ground in a loud clatter.

“Logan!” You laughed, grabbing his shirt in an attempt to make him slow down.

“I’ll clean it up.” He mutters into your lips, picking you up and placing you on the table, slotting himself between your thighs as you messily made out, the taste of syrup lingering on your tongues and lips. His hands went under your slip-on, quickly pulling your panties off as he leaned you back down on the table. 

“Lo, what about your hard work for this breakfast?” You teased me. “You should eat before work!”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m doing.” He mutters as he kneels onto the floor, spreading your thighs open and tugging you to the edge of the table. You gasped as his tongue licked a long stripe up your folds. He groaned, “Taste so damn good princess.” He mutters into your thigh. 

He licked another stripe, before his tongue pressed to your clit, and you let out a moan, tipping your head back, spreading your legs wide as your hands gripped his hair, tugging it towards you and making him moan. You bit your lip, arching your back as Logan's hands came up to grip your thighs, keeping them spread as he made short work of you. His tongue rubbing practiced circles on your clit, just the right pace that had you panting, your heart racing as your pussy became soaked with his spit and your arousal. 

He dipped down to your hole, sticking his tongue inside, making you clench greedily around the muscle, making him grin. “Feeling needy huh baby?” He coos as he pulls away. He let go of your thigh, and he stuck two fingers between his lips, soaking them with his spit. He pulled them out, and teased your entrance, circling it with his middle finger, before leaning up and giving your clit a few lazy licks as he slowly pushed his finger inside you.

“Lo-!” You whine, your hip wiggling, desperate for more as he slowly works his finger in and out of you, giving your clit small kitten licks that makes your entire body twitch. 

“Feel good?”

“Mhm.” You nodded desperately. Tugging at his hair. “More, Lo, more please!”

“So polite.” He chuckles, his breath fanning over your pussy, and he works another finger inside you, curling them as he touches that spot that sends you careening. Your whines were music to his ears, as he continued rubbing that spot inside you, your legs began to tremble, and your nails dug painfully into his scalp. “C'mon princess. Cum for me.” He urges, before slotting his tongue over your clit, his lips wrapping around your bud and sucking. 

It was all you needed to snap that thread. Your body froze, arching your back with your head tipped back, moaning “Logan Logan Logan Logan” over and over as your thighs tightened around his skull, and your pussy sucked his fingers in so tight he could barely pull them out. Fluids squirted out, flooding his face and hand, as he desperately licked every inch of you during your orgasm, moaning at the taste. Your body finally relaxed, as Logan stroked his fingers in and out of you a few more times, working you through your orgasm, and lapping up the rest of your juices. 

Your body laxed, your limbs feeling a buzzing as Logan stood up, licking his lips. You attempted to catch your breath, barely noticing the sound of a belt being undone. You felt your legs being moved, placed up on his shoulders.

Your eyes snapped open when you felt his cock sliding between your folds. You squirmed, feeling overstimulated the way his cock bumped against your clit.

“Lo.” You whined, your hands falling to either side of your head. 

“What? Gotta make sure you’re fed too baby.” He says, a teasing edge in his voice. You scoffed weakly, shaking your head. You felt his tip against your hole, as he slowly pushed himself inside you. 

Two fingers were barely enough to prepare you for the size of Logan. Despite having been with him for years, the moment he pushes himself inside always makes your body melt as he stretches you open. Your hands reached down to grab him as bottomed out inside you, a harsh pant escaping you.

“Fuck.” He cursed quietly, waiting a moment, allowing you to adjust. “I can’t ever get enough of you darling.” He groans, his hands on your waist gripping you tighter, as he begins to thrust in and out of you, slowly. 

Your nails dug into his hands, as you felt his length stretching you open as he began to thrust faster. “Oh Logan-” You moaned, biting your lip and tipping your head back. Your hips moved in time with his thrusts, overstimulation covered your body. He moved faster, pushing you down on him as he fucked into you. His hips slammed into yours, as he leaned over you on the table, your legs on his shoulders being pushed down to your chest. 

His cock rubbed that delightful spot that Logan's fingers had touched moments ago, each thrust pushing you further and further over the edge once more. The kitchen table creaked with each thrust, making you wonder if you two were really about to break it. “Goddamn, you feel so good sweetheart.” He moans, his lips brushing over yours. Your lips pouted as you squeezed your eyes shut, pleasure racking through your body. “Fucking love that you’re all mine. This sweet pussy is all mine. Cmon, look at me.” He demands, as you open your eyes to look up at him. “Yeah, there she is. My pretty wife.” He grins devilishly. 

“Logan” You whined. 

“I know darling.” He coos breathlessly, his arm wrapping around your thigh as his fingers find your clit and begin stroking. Your vision went white, as you came for the second time, Logan fucking you through it as your body shook underneath him, until he grunted, slamming into you- his release coating your pulsing walls around him. “Aw fuck-” He hissed, letting out another guttural groan as he tipped his head back, his chest heaving as the last spurts of his cum filled you up. He carefully pulled out of you, catching his breath. He moved to kiss your ankle. “All full now darling?”

Still panting, and seeing spots in your vision, you rolled your eyes. 

After the “quiet” breakfast, and cleanup, Logan had to leave for work

You met him at the door. He had on his usual ‘lumberjack’ look about him. His snug jeans, flannel, and vest were placed over him. He had his arm behind his back. 

“You look handsome as always, baby.” You cooked. He smiled, looking down at you with his chin facing down. He pulled out from behind his arms a large bouquet- they were wildflowers, looking like something Logan must have picked from the surrounding forests. You gasped. “Lo! When did you do this? They’re beautiful!” You took the bouquet to sniff them.

“Before I made breakfast. I wanted to get you some roses but…”

“No! I love these!” You gave him a big toothy smile, adoring the way Logan arranged the beautiful flowers in the bouquet. You could picture him trying to arrange things perfectly in the way he’d know you like them. You’d been married for several years at this point, but he never fails to surprise you with his romantic gestures, and his dedication to making you happy. You leaned up on your toes to kiss his cheek and he smiled.

“I just wanted to give you something, even if we have plans tonight,” He says softly.

“Lo, you don’t have to do anything.” You say softly, “I’m happy with just you.”

“Hm.” He hummed looking down at you, getting that soft look in his eyes. When you first met him, he was a stoic, angry man. He didn’t view the world with much kindness and for a good reason. You supposed that living for so long, and you see as much hatred and violence as he has, you’d be angry too. With time though, he became warm to you, and it blossomed into the romance you and him share now. He is and will always be the only one for you.

You share another kiss before he finally leaves. You sighed, already missing him as you watched the station wagon pull out of the driveway and down to the neighborhood street. You had plans for your Valentine's evening- plans to stay in, make a nice home cooked meal together, dance, maybe watch a flick- and then you’ll put on that sexy one piece you bought in secret that he doesn’t know about, and surprise him. For some people, that may seem like a boring Valentine's- but it was perfect for you and Logan. 

You moved to get the chores done for the day and checked to make sure you had all the groceries for tonight's dinner. You checked your pantry and then walked into the kitchen- noticing Logan had left his lunch bag. You weren’t surprised, considering your proclivities earlier. 

You decided you would take it to him from work. You went to get dressed, wearing a light pink mini dress with a v-neck live, that hugged your figure and ended mid-thigh, doing your hair up in the pretty style Logan always adored, and putting on some light makeup. You pulled on some boots, and a small jacket that matched your outfit. It was a bit more of a summery outfit to wear especially in Canada during February of all months, but you preferred looking cute for your husband than comfort at this moment. 

You had the idea to write a small love note to stick into Logan's lunch. So before you left, you sat down at the table and wrote down some affectionate words for Logan to read, hoping that it’ll make him smile while he’s at work. 

You went outside, jumping into his old truck as you drove down to his work. You drove up the long driveway, stopping at the small temporary building where several men stood chatting, turning to look at you arriving, as you rolled down your window. 

“Hi, boys.” You greeted the men. 

“You lost lil lady?” One asked, you read his nametag and recognized the name as one of the project managers. One of Logan's bosses. You shook your head

“I’m looking for Logan.” 

“Oh, you’re Logan's lady-” The other popped up with a big grin. He had brown hair and a face that seemed like he was a sarcastic asshole and proud, you raised an eyebrow. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.” He says with a big cheesy grin. “You look very pretty today-” 

“Likewise.” You cut him off, “Logan?” You ask. The manager nodded, pushing the other guy to the side. 

“He’ll be coming back for lunch in a moment. If you wanna go to the park and wait for him. Shouldn’t be long.” The manager nods, you nod. 

“Thank you-”

“Hey, hey- Listen if you ever get tired of the grump, come hit me up. I’m Wade.” The guy from earlier introduces himself, and he winks. You rolled your eyes but you couldn’t help your amused grin. Wade. You recall Logan complaining about him more than once. You put the back into first gear, driving out into a makeshift dirt parking lot, where you parked next to yours and Logan's other car- a simple station wagon. 

You waited a few minutes before you climbed out of the truck, moving to go lean on the back of the truck, with Logan's lunch bag in hand. Soon you heard the sound of several trucks as they came down from the forests, and you caught sight of Logan's head of hair, making your heart flutter as you tried to suppress your grin. 

He hadn’t caught sight of you yet, stepping down from the truck with ease, axe over his shoulder. You watched Wade bound to him and started talking to him. You couldn’t tell what he was saying- but Logan's expression filled with irritation. Logan suddenly looked surprised, his nostril flaring and he turned his head to look at you, and immediately his stoic and hard face turned soft and something you could only consider lovesick. 

You stood up straight, a big smile stretched across your face as you gave him a little wave. The others noticed, and one wolf whistled at the sight of you - to which Logan immediately reacted. He turned towards them, a warning scowl, and you could hear Wade cackling. Logan shook his head, playfully threatening all of them with his axe before turning and practically bounding towards you while the other lumberjacks watched in amusement. 

When he reached you, he immediately kissed you, passionate and intense. You’re not sure if it’s excitement from seeing you, or a possessive instinct to claim you in front of the other men. Or both.

Likely both.

“What are you doing here babydoll?” He asks softly.

“Forgot your lunch-” You hold up the brown bag. He smiled, leaning down to kiss you again, as he threw the axe into the back of the pickup, and an arm going around your waist to pull you close. 

“And you got all dolled up to bring it for me hm?” He asks in a low voice as he presses his forehead to yours. “It’s too cold for that.” 

“It’s Valentine after all.” You hummed. “Besides, I knew you’d keep me warm.” You flirted. He grinned, and he leaned his head back. You saw something lustful flash in his eyes. He stepped back from you, grabbing your hand and lifting it, encouraging you to spin. His jaw tensed, and he glanced over at the men who were all watching, amusement, and surely desire plastered on their faces. Logan felt a streak of pride knowing he got a pretty thing like you by his side. He considered himself a very lucky man. He smirked. 

“Cmon, I have lunch for an hour.” He says grabbing your hand, leading you to the passenger side of the station wagon and opening the door for you. You settled inside, and he climbed into the driver's seat. 

“Don’t you wanna have lunch around here? Maybe I can meet some of your coworkers.”

“No. I know a private spot where we could eat.” He says as he turns the car on. You laughed, shaking your head. 

The next thing you know, you’re on Logan's lap in the back bench seat of the station wagon. His hands are sliding all over you, as he’s leaned back on the seat, his legs spread, forcing your thighs open.

He smelled like dirt and sawdust, and it was heavenly. You leaned forward, licking his bottom lip, begging to be let inside while he chuckled warmly, his hands sliding up your thighs and slipping under the hem.  

“Look at you. All pretty.” He mutters slowly, his eyes trailing down you. His hands moved down to grope your ass, and you bit your lip to suppress a smile. “I count my blessings knowing something cute as you let me touch you like this.” 

You felt your cheeks go red, and he chuckled. He pushed your ass forward on his crotch, encouraging you to grind on him. A small gasp escaped you.

“Weren’t satisfied by this morning Lo?” You ask softly, your hands reaching to hold onto his shoulders, as you begin to roll your hips over him. You could feel his hard length, threw his jeans, and pressed down against him. Your panties began getting soaked with your arousal. 

“Baby I can never get enough of you.” He groans, his hand going over to the back of your neck and pulling you down towards him so he can capture your lips in a messy kiss. “Especially when you come all this way to make sure I’m taken care of. Making yourself all pretty for me. Fuck.” He licked into your mouth. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as you began grinding over him desperately. He brought his hands down to his belt, quickly unfastening it. You reached your own hands down to help him out of his jeans faster.

He pushed the jeans down far enough for his hard cock to pop out. You bit your lip at the sight, your hand coming up to give him a few strokes, where he tipped his head back and groaned. You sat up on your knees, and Logan supported your waist, while his hand reached under your dress, and pulled your soaked panties to the side. 

You lowered yourself down on him. You bit down on your inner cheek to avoid being too loud. While he pulled you into another searing kiss. 

“C’mon, baby. Take care of me.” He moaned softly into your lips. His hands grabbed your ass again, encouraging you to start rocking your hips back and forth and you obliged. Lifting yourself up, all the way to where his tip nearly came out of you, before plopping back down into his lap, where he filled you to the brim.

You continued repeating his motion, slow and steady at first, before picking up the pace. Logan's hands cradled your ass, supporting you as you bounced on him. Your head fell to his shoulder, as small moans and whimpers escaped you.

“That’s a girl.” He mutters. “You’re doing so good. You look so good like this.” He praises. “Feel good?” His timber voice shooting straight through you.

“Mhm.” You bit your lip and nodded. You kept trying to go faster, but soon you felt yourself tiring out. Your thighs were trembling, and you felt like you couldn’t push yourself up anymore. “Lo…” You whined, looking up at him pleadingly. 

“Getting tired babydoll?” He asked softly,a slight amused and cocky look in his eyes, and you nodded. He sat back in the seat. “S’alright. C’mon. I’ll take over.” 

His hands went to your hips, and he began thrusting into you. As good as it felt to ride him, the way Logan fucked up into you felt even better. Logan somehow knew how to make you feel good better than you knew yourself. He angled himself, constantly pounding into you and hitting that spot that made your eyes roll back. 

“C’mon, cmon baby cum for me.” He growls. The power of his thrusts shook the entire car. He wrapped one arm around your waist, while his free hand came up to tug the collar of your dress down, and then your bra, exposing your tit that he took in his mouth- still thrusting up into you. The car was filled with lewd noises of your connections, moans, and whines leaking through the windows that were fogging up from both your harsh pants. “Shit-” He grunted, grabbing you and manipulating you downwards, so your back was on the seat.

His arm is still protectively around your waist, his hips slammed into yours. He grabbed your leg, placing it over his shoulder, while your other leg pressed against his hip. The new angle sent waves of pleasure over you, as your hands clinged to Logan's flannel.

He was fucking into you so hard, you were sure the car was going to tip over by the way it was shaking. No wonder he drove 10 minutes down the road. He didn’t want to risk anyone seeing. 

His lips crashed onto yours, and with a few more thrusts, you finally came. Your fluids soaked Logan's cock, splashing on yours and his pants as he continued thrusting, before finally finishing inside with a hard thrust. You felt his cum filling you up for the 2nd time today. 

He collapsed on you, both sweaty and exhausted. He looked up at you, his hair was a mess, sweat beading his forehead, and his pupils were blown wide. 

You couldn’t help it, as you started giggling at the sight of him, and he grinned.

“What?!” He asked.

“We are NOT going to look very discreet when we go back.” You laughed. He chuckled warmly.

“It’s none of their damn business anyway.” He leans to press a kiss against your shoulder, before sitting up and carefully pulling out of you. 

He did his pants back up, before helping you up and helping you fix your appearance. You sat on his lap, and you grabbed his lunch bag, pulling it open and pulling out the sandwich inside. His hand massaged your back, as he pressed a soft kiss to your temple. You broke off a piece of his sandwich, bringing it up to his lips. He smiled, opening his lips and allowing you to feed him, as he chewed and looked at you pridefully, making you laugh.

After lunch, he drove back to the lumber sight, where you said goodbye to the truck. You gave him a kiss - which was interrupted by wolf whistles and calling by the men across the yard watching you both. Logan rolled his eyes, a shake of his head. “I’m gonna kill 'em.”

You chuckled, fixing his flannel a bit. “You’ll be off at 4 correct?” 

“Yeah.” He nods. “See you then babydoll” He purrs, kissing your forehead, before opening the car door, holding your hand as you climb in. “Be safe.”

“You too. Love you-” You gave him one more kiss, 

“Love you too.” He responds, and he shuts the door of the truck, watching as you drive away from the yard. 

“Hey, loverboy, you guys have a nice lunch?” Wade calls out. Logan rolls his eyes as he turns around. “Your flys undone!”

Logan's face fell as he looked down, realizing that it was in fact- undone. He sighs, as his cheeks turned red, zipping his fly back up as he walked towards his coworkers, preparing for a week of ceaseless teasing. 

Meanwhile, you run to the store to pick up extra groceries, the gas station, and you get the truck an oil change. It was typically Logan who took care of that - but you wanted to do something nice for him so he didn’t have to worry about it.

Going home, you finished your chores, showered, and changed into comfier clothes (at least until Logan got back…) 

You spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing and attempting to recover from the weakness in your legs that Logan had caused. You two had an active sex life, but Logan seemed particularly pent up today, and you could only imagine what tonight would bring - you just hoped you’d survive it. 

The next time you checked the clock, you saw it was 3:40.

Logans going to be home soon.

You moved to start getting ingredients prepared, before going to put on something nice. Something a bit more casual than your earlier outfit, but still fitting for the evening. A pretty red sundress- just to fit with the Valentine theme, your hair was down, and a nice pretty pink lipstick. 

You grabbed the gifts you got him. One was a box of very expensive Cuban cigars. He typically went for the cheaper ones, just to save money- but you stashed away some cash specifically for this gift. The other was a new leather jacket, the one he currently has was still fairly nice- but this new jacket was in a color he’d preferred but couldn’t find anywhere. Another was an engraved lighter, with yours and his initials engraved inside a little heart on the side. 

The last gift was a necklace that looked like a compass, with the inside being a locket, and a small picture of you both. You were kissing his cheek. On the back of the compass was engraved “So you’ll always find your way back to me”

You wondered if it was too cheesy. 

You wanted Logan to know how much you truly loved him though. Despite your obvious affections, things are always perfect. Logan struggles, nightmares, self-doubts, and even pushed you away in the past. You have your struggles that’s caused you to push him away. Somehow though, maybe through trust, you both made it through and stuck those times together. You truly felt that no matter what happens in the future, you and Logan will always be together.

You eloped about 3 years ago, after 2 years of dating. You met him when he was a soldier, fresh from Vietnam. He was rude, condescending, and incredibly handsome. Your perfect type. 

Time went on and you grew on Logan. The way you always mouthed off to him when he was a dick, yet how you always supported him through the small moments of vulnerability that bled through, like when he drinks too much some nights and lets slip the things he felt about himself. He always thought you were beautiful, he felt it the moment you met- but fear, fear of hurting you, fear of getting hurt by you, kept him from asking you out. It was you who made the first move, and since then he's done nothing but adore you and make you the happiest girl on the planet. 

You heard the front door opening as he stepped inside. Setting the wrapped boxes on the kitchen table, you went to greet him.

“Babe?” He called out. 

You walked out into the living room, smiling happily at him. His face lit up, as if he hadn’t seen you most of the day already. It truly seemed like he could never get tired of you. 

He kicked his shoes off, then shed his vest off and hung it up, before moving to greet you. His arms wrapped around you, as you wrapped your own around his waist. 

“Hi.” You grinned up at him. 

“Hi.” He chuckled.

“Work went okay?”

“Oh yeah.” He chuckled, and you hummed with humor. He elected not to tell you about his fly being down. Spare himself some dignity. “Are you ready for tonight?”

“Oh yeah, we’re partying hard.” You teased me. 

“Somethings gonna be hard that’s for sure.” 

You mock gasp, moving to hit him. “Perv!”

“Like you don’t love it.” He pulled you close. “I’m gonna take a shower, and we’ll start dinner, yeah?”

“Mhm.” You nod and lean up to peck his lips. “You need it.” You scrunch your nose, playfully pushing him off you, leading him to the bathroom, and pushing him inside. 

He showered while you started getting dinner ready. When he was done, he came out smelling like fresh soap, something cedar. He took part in dinner, dicing the vegetables while you cooked some meat. 

Soft music played in the background, and you two worked in silence, comforted in each other's presence nearby. The sound of Logan dicing vegetables on the board, and the meat simmering on the cast iron pan merely added to the relaxing atmosphere. When he finished dicing, he came over with the veggies, pushing them into the pan of meat- you quickly grabbed a slice of pepper and popped it into your mouth proudly while he raised an eyebrow at you. 

You continued cooking while Logan went and set the table with plates, glasses, and silverware. Eventually, he came over, turning your attention away from the pan, and pulled you towards him, his hands resting on your hips as you both languidly rocked back and forth to the music. 

“I didn’t think I’d ever get this.” He finally says. You raised your brows. 

“What do you mean?”

“A life like this.” He nods to the room. “A life with you.” 

You tilted your head. “Why not?”

“You know why.”

“You’re a good man Logan.” You say softly. “You've been through a lot. Maybe you did things you regretted but…It’s the past. You’re here, with me now.” You brought your hand to cup his cheek, and his eyes softened. “I couldn’t be happier. Nor prouder to be able to call myself your wife.”

His lips stretched into a smile, as he stepped dancing, pulling you into a tight embrace, where he buried his face into your neck. You hugged him just as tightly. 

“C’mon.” You urged. “Let's eat, I’m starving.”

You ate dinner. Something with candlelights and wine and soft music. You and Logan held hands over the table, his thumb running soothingly over the back of your hand, and where your ring rested. You flung food at him with your fork. 

After dinner, and the dishes are done, you both sit in the living room, prepared to give each other their gifts. Butterflies stirred in your belly, as you hoped Logan would enjoy the things he got. You begged him to open his first, which he reluctantly agreed to. 

He started with the jacket, pleasantly surprised that you found the color he wanted, as he moved to put it on. Adjusting it a bit, and then smiling warmly.

“It looks good on you!” You say happily. 

The cigars took him back more, as he observed them, and took a deep whiff of the scent. He sighed constantly. “How much you’d spend on these.”

“We agreed NOT to talk about budgets…” You warned. You were admittedly guilty of being a shopper, leading Logan to be strict about spending. He didn’t control your money, but he knew how to keep you from impulse buying. Holidays and birthdays are the things you both agreed he wouldn’t give you grief about. He chuckled and held his hands up. 

“Alright alright..” He shook his head. He opened the next gift, the lighter. He turned it in his hand, observing it, and finding the engravings. A soft look came across his face, as his thumb softly brushed over your initials. “I love it babydoll.” He looked at it, turning to kiss you on the cheek.

“There’s…One more.” You bit your lip at the last box sitting on the table. He goes to unwrap, and his face falls as he observes the gift. 

He pulled the necklace out. The compass wasn’t very big, about the size of a golf ball. He clicked open the pendent, revealing the inside compass, and the picture of you kissing his cheek. He let out a small breath, turning the necklace in his hand when he found the engraving. He swallowed hard, biting his inner cheek as he took a deep breath. 

“This is…” He shook his head, staring at it. “I…” 

You moved closer, resting a hand on his knee, before wrapping it around his arm and kissing his cheek. “I love you Logan Howlett.” You whisper to him. He turned to look at you, and for a moment you thought there were tears in his eyes, but he kissed you before you could confirm that. 

He drew the kiss out as long as possible, before finally parting. “Thank you.” He says resting his forehead on yours. You brought a hand to his cheek, softly scratching his stubble. “Guess you’re ready for yours?” He asks. You giggled and nodded. 

You adored your gifts, starting first with a frame of your favorite flowers, dried and pressed. A Howlett original. A necklace that you saw and adored in a vintage shop MONTHS ago and almost forgot about but Logan didn’t. A signed first-edition copy of your favorite book. Lastly, a booked trip to the city you always wanted to travel to. 

To say you screamed at the last gift was an understatement. 

The night eventually led to what you both knew it would. 

Logan laid in bed, stripped of his clothes already- his hard cock straining as he watched you teasingly strip off your dress- revealing the lacey lingerie you planned to surprise him with. The illumination of the candlelights in the bedroom had only high-lighted your figure in a way that made you look like a goddess in Logan's eyes.

“Fuck.” He breathes heavily. “I thought we agreed on only 4 gifts, baby?” He quirked a brow as his eyes hungrily ran over your figure. 

You smiled cheekily up at him, climbing onto the mattress and between his legs, resting on your tummy as you rested your cheek on his thigh, blinking innocently up at him. “You know I can never resist buying gifts.” 

He hummed- which turned into a groan as he watched you press small chaste kisses up his member, leaving small lipstick stains. His cock jumped against your lips, making you giggle. You brought your tongue out, testing a small lick, and it throbbed again. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” He mumbles. You bit your lip, taking your hand up to his cock, giving it a few gentle strokes, as you leaned down and licked at his balls, taking one into your mouth and sucking, popping off, before moving to his base, running your tongue around him. You were teasing him as much as you could, your hand held his tip- but did nothing to stimulate him. You turned to press kisses into his inner thigh, giving him a few more lazy strokes and he groaned. “C’mon baby, quit teasing.”

You grinned sinfully at him, staring into his eyes as you moved to run your tongue over the thick vein that ran up his cock. His hips involuntarily jumped forward at the stimulation. You fisted your hand on his tip, rubbing your thumb over it, smearing pre-cum all over your hand as you began to fully stroke his throbbing member. He let out a relieved sigh, tipping his head back as you stroked him faster. 

You took his tip between your lips, running your tongue over it and moaning at the taste of him. You felt yourself drooling as you took him deeper into your mouth, spit dripping down your lips and his dick. 

“You feel good baby.” He mumbled, his hand coming up and into your hair, moving you up and down his member. “Fuck.” He hissed, as you took him deeper into your throat, the tip of his cock hitting the back of it, and you angled your head to swallow him better. 

You took him all the way down to his base, the coarse hairs that sat below his belly button tickling your nose, while your eyes watered from the pressure of his huge member inside your throat. A small gag escaped you as you lifted your head up, and then took him back down again, bobbing your head up and down, and stroking what you don’t fit. Logan grunted and moaned the entire time, his chest heaving as he watched you struggle to fit his entire length inside you. “You look so damn pretty like this darling.” He mumbles, his hand tightening around your hair. “Those pretty lips wrapped around my cock. Your lipstick all over the place-” he groaned. “Come on baby, you can fit me all in there again.” 

He pushed your head down over him, and you gagged, choking on him again. Your thighs pressed together- your arousal becoming uncomfortably wet and slick between your legs, and your lace panties did nothing to ease the ache. His hand led you up and down his member at the pace he wanted- no, he desperately needed you to go. His hips subtly thrusting upwards into your mouth and down your throat, as your hands braced his thighs and your eyes rolled back, letting him use your mouth as a fucktoy. 

He practically screamed your name, thrusting deep into you one more time as his hot cum came down your throat. Tears rolled down your face, as you struggled to breathe as he continued filling your mouth with his cum, small beads of it along with your spit rolling down your lips. You finally pull off, unable to take more as you gasp for breath, spit and cum coating both his softening cock and your chin. 

You sat up on your knees as Logan sat up, reaching over and pulling you onto his lap, messily kissing you, and groaning. “I’m going to fuck the shit out of you.” He mumbles into your lips. You nodded, desperately needing him now.  

He pushes you down onto the mattress onto your belly, lifting your ass into the air. You licked your lips clean, as he stroked himself, getting hard all over again. You really did love his regenerative factor. 

His thumb teased your cunt, pushing the lacey panties that were soaked through with your arousal, and circled the entrance. “Fuck, you’re soaked princess.” He mumbles. “I bet I can slide in you no problem. You love sucking my cock don’t you?”

You nodded dumbly into the mattress, and he pressed his tip against your hold, teasingly pushing inside and pulling out, sliding in between your folds. You wiggled your hips, a small whine escaping you. 

“You don’t like the teasing now hm?” He growls. 

“Mm-mm.” You mumble into the blankets, arching your back, desperate for him to fuck you. He ran his cock through your folds again, before he slipped inside your greedy hole, and slammed into you with one thrust. “Oh!” You yelped, mouth agape in an O shape as your thighs quivered, attempting to adjust to his size for the 3rd time today. 

“I’ve fucked you multiple times today and you still feel so fucking good baby.” He groans, his hands smacking against your ass, his nails digging into your skin. “I just can’t get enough of you doll.”

“Mm..Mhm..” You nodded dumbly into the mattress, desperate for him to move, your hips started rocking back and forth. 

“God, you love this cock don’t you?” He mumbled, and you nodded again, a warm chuckle escaping him. “Yeah, I know you do.” 

He began thrusting in and out of you, pulling all the way out from the tip and slamming back into you. He grabbed your hips, pushing you back onto him with each thrust until you could meet his pace. 

“Logan…” You moaned into the sheets, barely able to think. He was right, you’d think by the 3rd time you’d be used to it, but every time he fucks you- you turn dumb, unable to think about anything other than his cock railing you. He leaned over you, one hand digging into your hip, the other reaching into your hair, tipping your head back, making you whine loudly. 

Your ass bounced with each of his thrusts, a rhythmic smacking sound heard throughout the room, alongside yours and Logan's thrusts. His nails dug into your lingerie piece that it started to rip- unbeknownst to either of you. 

“You’re squeezing me so tight doll, already about to cum?” He hums. You nodded, that tight string in your belly felt like it was going to snap at any moment. Logan adjust his angle- fucking into just right, that your eyes rolled back- and you couldn’t even moan as you came over his cock. “God, I love you-” He tipped his head back as you felt your pussy squeeze around him.

Logan hissed, you squeezed him so tightly in your orgasm it was almost painful, and caused his control to snap. Your greedy pussy clenched around him, pulsing over and over as he grabbed your hips with both hands, and pounded into you with gritted teeth, before cumming inside you with a loud yell, and a snikt!

You were barely conscious at that point, not registering the familiar sound of his bone claws escaping his fists, and tearing into the fabric of your comforter and mattress. 

He collapsed over you, his breath fanning over your back. Both your bodies are covered in sweat. He retracted his claws, as he brought a hand to your shoulder, pulling your up, with his cock- still hard- and still buried inside you. 

“I’m not done with you yet babydoll.” He mutters into your ear, sending shivers down your body as you could feel his cum leaking down your thighs. He kissed your cheek. You managed to catch your breath enough to turn your head towards him. 

“I love you too-” You say breathlessly, and he caught you in a searing kiss. “Happy Valentines-” You add as he pulls away, moving to manhandle you into another position. 

[vyxenisl0st]

╰┈➤ 𝙎𝙩𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙙 𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙑

Alastor x reader

🀥 Summary: You despised the TV Demon—the sound of his voice, his face, and especially his incessant news channel. But what happens when he finally says something worth listening to?

🀥 Warnings: fem!reader, slight angst, vulgar language

🀥 Word count: 1,768

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V

ﾟ･:,｡★＼(^-^)♪ありがと♪( ^-^)/★,｡･:･ﾟ

Alastor had never considered himself sane. But if he had any scraps of rationality left, they were slipping away by the second as he drew closer to your house.

The Pleasure District was quiet, a stark contrast to the rest of Hell’s usual chaos. Here, there were no distant screams, no senseless chatter, no distractions. Just silence. He should have been grateful for it—should have been relieved to hear his own thoughts without the usual cacophony drowning them out.

But he wasn’t.

Because his thoughts were nothing but a relentless, swirling mess.

What in Hell’s name was he even going to say to you?

He wanted your forgiveness, of course. But he wished—oh, how he wished—he could simply skip over the apology. Skip over the anger, the heartbreak, the hurt. Jump straight to the part where you were his again. Where you laughed at his jokes, rolled your eyes at his antics, let him hold you like he never left.

But that wasn’t how this worked.

And that was what he hated most of all.

Alastor had faced countless enemies in his time—demons who had threatened him, challenged him, died by his hand. He had crushed them all with a grin, never once faltering. But now, standing at the doorstep of the one person who truly mattered, he had never felt weaker.

His hands clenched into fists. He shouldn’t be here.

He should turn back.

You were going to kill him. He was certain of that.

And maybe he deserved it.

How dare he come back here, after everything? After leaving you, abandoning you, shutting you out? After humiliating you by refusing to acknowledge you at the hotel?

And to top it all off, coming here without a proper apology.

He was a fool to think he had any right to show up now. A fool to believe that putting his wedding ring back on somehow made up for seven years of silence.

But he had come this far. And he was nothing if not stubborn.

His breath hitched for just a moment before he forced a smile onto his face, one that felt almost painful to maintain.

Then, with a steadying breath, he lifted his hand and knocked on the door.

A voice drifted from the other side of the door, muffled but distinctly irritated.

“Isn’t it common knowledge not to bother an Overlord uninvited? Damn these people.”

A click. The door swung open, revealing Alyssa—the ever-faithful assistant you had kept by your side for decades.

Alastor barely had a moment to register her before she locked eyes with him, her gaze sharp and unimpressed.

The air between them shifted.

She raised a brow. “Lady (Y/N) is not expecting, nor accepting, visitors. Especially not this kind.”

Alastor’s grin didn’t waver, but his fingers curled tighter around his cane.

A lesser being speaking to him like this? Unthinkable.

But then he remembered—she was yours.

One of your souls, bound to your protection. A devoted servant with your blessing to act as she pleased, so long as it pleased you. And clearly, it did.

His eye twitched.

Still, his voice remained smooth. “I need to speak with my wife. If you would be so kind as to inform her that I’m here.”

Alyssa gave him a slow, deliberate once-over before meeting his eyes again.

“No.”

Alastor blinked. “No?”

She tilted her head, a smirk ghosting her lips. “No.”

She moved to shut the door.

His cane snapped up, stopping it just before it clicked shut.

His voice was lower now, still laced with amusement but carrying something darker beneath it. “I will not tolerate this level of disrespect from someone like you.”

Alyssa scoffed. “If disrespecting you means respecting my lady’s wishes, then you will tolerate it.”

The smile on Alastor’s face faltered for just a second.

This little sheep had claws. And worse—she was using them for you.

He took a steadying breath. “Fine. If I can’t come in, then could you at least call her over here?”

Alyssa shrugged. “No.”

“Oh, come on!”

“What is all this noise? Alyssa, just tell whoever’s at the door that we’re not interested in what they’re selling.”

The moment he heard your voice, Alastor froze. His grip tightened around his cane, his usual confidence betraying him for the first time in decades. As your footsteps grew closer, he wanted nothing more than for the ground to tear open and swallow him whole.

Alyssa turned slightly, casting a glance back at you. “I’m sorry I woke you, my lady, but I just can’t get him to leave.”

Your gaze met his, and for a fleeting second, something unreadable flashed across your expression. But it was gone just as quickly. You straightened, crossing your arms.

“And what, exactly, are you selling?”

His usual grin felt foreign on his face. “An apology,” he admitted.

You let out a breathy laugh—humorless, sharp. “An apology?” You tilted your head. “Well, go on then. Let’s hear it.”

He hesitated. This wasn’t going to be easy.

Finally, he sighed, lowering his head slightly. “I’m sorry.”

Your expression didn’t waver. “No, you’re not.”

His brows lifted. “I—”

“You don’t even know what that word means.”

For the first time in a long, long while, Alastor was at a loss for words. But he wasn’t ready to give up. Not this time.

“…You’re right.” His voice was quieter now, but steady. “But I do know that I hurt you. And knowing that you have suffered because of me… it makes me ashamed of myself.” He inhaled, the weight of his own words settling in his chest.

“I was a coward. I left. I abandoned you. And when I came back, I acted as though you were nothing more than a memory I had no intention of reclaiming.” His fingers twitched at his sides. “You deserved better than that. You have always deserved better than that.”

A pause. A painful, suffocating pause.

“You have every right to hate me. Every right to turn me away, to refuse to hear a single word I have to say.” He swallowed. “And I would accept that. Because the last thing I have ever wanted was to be the thing that makes you unhappy.”

His voice softened, the facade of the Radio Demon slipping away.

“But if there is any part of you—no matter how small—that would allow me the chance to make amends…” His eyes met yours, pleading, vulnerable. “Then I will take it. No matter what it takes.”

You stared at him, heart pounding against your ribs.

Damn him. Damn him for saying exactly what you had wanted to hear for seven years. Damn him for meaning it.

You hated how much you still loved him. How much you wanted to close the distance between you, to let yourself believe that things could go back to the way they were.

But they couldn’t. Could they?

“You say you regret it. That you never wanted to hurt me.” Your voice wavered, the weight of seven years pressing down on your chest. “Then why did you do it, Alastor? Why did you leave? Why did you let me think I wasn’t worth coming back to?”

Silence.

For once, he had no answer. His usual grin was still in place, but it wasn’t as sharp, not as effortless.

You exhaled shakily, wrapping your arms around yourself as if that could hold you together. “I don’t know if I can trust you,” you admitted. “I don’t know if I can go through that again.”

His fingers twitched at his sides, his hands clenching and unclenching as if restraining the urge to reach for you. But he didn’t. He stayed still.

“…What do you need from me?” he asked, his voice quieter now. Almost hesitant.

“The truth.” Your throat tightened, but you pushed through. “What drove you to leave? What did you do? What took you so long to come back? Why didn’t you come back to me? Answers, Alastor. I need answers. Because for seven years, I asked myself these questions. And I can never forgive you with this constant weight over my chest.”

He was silent. His crimson eyes bore into yours, as if weighing how much he should say. Then, at last, he spoke.

“I cannot tell you where I was. Or what I did.” His voice was calm, but there was something behind it—something strained. “But all you need to know is that it was against my will. I had no choice on the matter. If I could have contacted you, or anyone, I would have.” His eyes softened, just for a moment. “Believe me, my darling, not one day passed that I didn’t think about you. About us.”

You wanted to believe him. You really did. But the ache in your chest wouldn’t let you.

“And when I finally got back,” he continued, “I knew that just showing up on your doorstep wouldn’t be enough. Why did you think I offered to help Lucifer’s daughter with that hotel?” He let out a dry, humorless chuckle. “I knew that if anyone could teach me anything about earning forgiveness, it was the people there.”

Your nails dug into your palms. “And how can I be sure that you’re telling the truth? Do you really expect me to trust you now?”

Alastor didn’t answer right away. For the first time since you had known him, he seemed… nervous. His hand lifted slowly, hesitantly, as if the movement itself required effort.

Then, he raised his left hand, revealing the familiar glint of his wedding ring.

Your breath caught.

“Don’t you remember?” His voice was soft, almost nostalgic. “On our wedding day, you put a spell on this ring. You told me that if I ever lied to you, this ring would cut off my finger.”

You stared at him, at the golden band wrapped snugly around his finger. Seven years, and it was still there.

A shaky breath left your lips, a tired, broken sound. “You remembered?”

“Oh, darling.” His grin widened, but this time, it wasn’t his usual, performative smirk. It was real. “That was the happiest day in both my life and afterlife. How could I forget?”

You stared at him, at the man who had hurt you, the man you had spent years cursing in your sleep, the man you had never stopped loving.

You stepped back from the doorway, silently inviting him inside.

It would take time. You weren’t ready to forget everything, and forgiveness wouldn’t come overnight. But you had forever, after all.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to start.

‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿ ‿‿

Taglist: @msfandomsblog @l34n @l3rittany @hayamie @sirens-and-moonflowers @lynsexperience

Author’s note: Finally finished this fic. The last part took more to post cause I was busy with exams and shits.

[filmbyjy]

can i req bf niki and fem reader and they go on a vacation to jp + meet niki's parents?? btw luv ur works <3

a/n: to whoever that requested this. i am so sorry this took a whole year to even get around to writing this😭 also my photoshopping skills on this banner🤌🏻 but anyways, this isn’t entirely a holiday with ni-ki as i am basing it off what happened when ni-ki went back to his hometown to perform. this is just assuming what happened, obviously fictional so it isn’t real. just imagine people!

BACK HOME

pairing: nishimura riki x fem!reader

genre: fluff; idol!ni-ki + relationship au

warnings: nope

word count: 2.4K words

it’s been years since ni-ki got to come back home to japan. years without his parents, his family. he had to grow up quick at 14. flying in a plane to an unknown territory. just to train for a 8 months and join a survival show. ni-ki was terrified, confused and quite honestly homesick. yet, after actually winning a spot and debuting. nothing could prepare himself to confess to you.

you had met ni-ki at a small secluded ice cream shop. it was a normal ice cream parlour, there were a few people that came and go. nothing could fully prepare you to come face to face with a masked man.

“hi, what flavour would you like? oh and would you like a single scoop or double?” you say the usual line. ni-ki looks up at you to order, in his head, his jaw drops cartoonishly. you were beautiful. he clears his throat, he probably had been standing there for quite a bit.

“can i get two single scoops? one mint choco and the other being cookies and cream.” he says.

“okay. one second.” you had scooped up the ice cream and placed it into the respective cups. “any toppings?”

“oh umm, maybe some…” his eyes scanned the toppings. which he couldn’t really focus on since your gaze was flustering him a lot. “sprinkles?” he says with a slight confusion in his voice.

you giggled a little, “sprinkles it is. on both ice cream?”

“yeah.” you had topped the ice cream with sprinkles and went to type in the order into the register.

“total will be $3.”

“oh? for two?”

“yeah. our prices are the lowest of the lowest here.” you say.

“woah. i should come back here all the time.” he says. he catches himself and he felt his face heat up. “sorry.”

“don’t be. it would be great if you could come back here everyday. maybe even bring your friends?”

“I think I could do that.” ni-ki smiles behind the mask.

and so he did. he came over to see you everyday and even bought ice cream every single time. was he getting sick and tired of ice cream? yes, but he would be able to see you everyday.

"so how was practice? is it fun?" you asked him curiously. he shook his head.

"just tiring. sometimes it's fun but since comeback is around the corner. practice has just been something I wished never came."

you had frowned at his words, "that doesn’t sound too fun. being an idol doesn’t seem as fun as i thought it would be.” ni-ki chuckles.

“it’s fun at times but you definitely need to have a lot of discipline to really become one. discipline and patience.” you hummed at his words.

“well, i don’t think i could become an idol. the girls? urgh too pretty. kinda jealous of them but i’m mainly just in awe by them.”

“you’re pretty too.” ni-ki says. you felt flustered.

“oh, thank you. i’m not all that pretty. you’ve probably come across a prettier girl than me.”

ni-ki does that unthinkable and he softly reaches your hands. “you’re pretty. really pretty. prettier than any of the girls i’ve seen.” your heart races at his words. in some way, you knew this was a confession since you knew that ni-ki was being obvious about having a crush on you. he didn’t bother hiding it because he didn’t find a reason to. besides, nobody besides you knew it was him. this was his little secret.

“is this your way of confessing to me?” you teased him. he laughs.

“and if it is, will you say yes?”

you smiled, “of course.” he squeezes your hand lightly.

“then from today onwards, you’re my girl.” he declares. you laughed.

“yours.”

a year passes by quickly. ni-ki had a concert in okayama. his hometown. there was a small period of break after their concert so ni-ki decided to invite to travel with them. he helps you place your luggage into the compartment above. you smiled. jake nudges ni-ki’s waist to tease him.

“ayyy, who knew our maknae can be so gentleman like.” jake smirks.

“at least i have a girlfriend.” ni-ki argues back. he pulls you closer to him and pecked the side of your head proudly. it was almost funny when jake's smile fell quickly and he looked like a sad puppy.

with that, ni-ki pulls you to your assigned seat (which was next to him). he kisses your knuckles and makes sure you were alright throughout the entire flight. since you’ve never really flown on a plane before, you were terrified but ni-ki assures you constantly. the both of you shared an earpiece and watched movies throughout the flight. when he looks around, all the boys were asleep so he takes his chance to peck your forehead. you stared right at him and he leans to peck your lips. before you could utter a word, ni-ki pulls you into a sweet kiss. one that showcased how much he loved you and you can’t help but feel your heart race quickly.

there was a short bright flash and so you and ni-ki pulled away. ni-ki turns back to see jungwon and sunghoon with their phones out taking a picture of you and ni-ki kissing.

“whoops.” jungwon says. “you two were too cute. we had to take a picture.”

“send me the picture later on.” ni-ki says. jungwon salutes and settles back at his seat continuing to watch the show he had accidentally dozed off on.

[1 hour passes by]

finally, everyone arrived at okayama. everyone goes to grab their bags from the compartment above once the plane lands and parks. you had to unfortunately be separated from the boys for a bit as your they were going get pictures taken by the paparazzis. one of their managers followed you and brought you towards another gate. there was a small group of people holding up a sign in japanese. it had ni-ki’s face plastered on it. you recognised ni-ki’s siblings and so you assumed that was his mom and dad next to them. they were waiting excitedly for ni-ki or were they waiting for you.

the manager approaches them and explains to them in japanese before turning to look at you. “this is ni-ki’s family, they will be accommodating you for the whole time we are here as you know it can be risky if you stayed with the boys.”

you nod. “thank you, manager jin. you don’t have to worry about me conversing with them. i learnt japanese for quite a while now so i think i can do well with chatting with them.”

“alright, i’ll leave you guys. i have to get back to the boys.” the manager leaves quickly. you turned to the ni-ki’s family and bowed.

“umm, hi. i am (name), ni-ki’s girlfriend.” you told them in japanese. ni-ki’s younger sister runs up to you and hugs you.

“you’re so pretty! ni ni really picked a good girl!” you blushed at his younger sister’s words. his older sister comes up to you and pats your back.

“let’s bring you back to our home so you can rest. taking a flight can be draining.” she says. ni-ki’s mom smiles.

“oh yes, dear. we should get back. you need to rest and also eat! let me make some food for you when get back home.”

once you had arrived at the nishimura household, ni-ki decides to facetime you. his face pops up on your screen.

“hi pretty.” ni-ki smiles.

you giddily smiled at him. “hi.”

“I wish you were here with me. kinda sucks we have to be separated.” he huffs and whines a little. you almost giggle at his cute act. surely, his fans would want to see more of this of him. alas, you could only witness this side of him and even bring it out.

“well, I’m not unfamiliar. I’m in your childhood home. which by the way, your mom has tons of albums of ENHYPEN here. your bedroom feels like a relic, it should be kept in a museum.”

“oh, my mom let you stay in my bedroom?” he tilts his head. you nod.

“yeah. oh and bisco is here too! i think your mom mentioned that he runs in here time to time because he misses you.”

“I’m going to cry that’s so cute.” ni-ki lays his head down on the pillow. “I’m so tired.”

“get some much needed rest, you have a concert tomorrow.” he hums at your words.

“I should visit home after the concert and eat there.”

“i think your mom is hoping for that. oh, maybe the boys can come over too?”

“I don’t think there would be enough space in my parents’ home, baby.” ni-ki chuckles a little.

"well, i'm just saying. i'm sure your parents would like to thank the people for taking care of their baby boy." ni-ki snorts.

"alright, i can't argue with you on that. oh, has bisco warmed up to you yet?" he asks. you panned the camera down to bisco wagging his tail and laying right next to you. ni-ki smiles widely.

"my girls."

"bisco is a boy."

"eh? but- right, boy." he clears his throat. "been a while since i've seen him. i think i forgot his gender."

"it's your family dog."

"it's not exactly my dog. it's my parents." ni-ki explains. you laughed.

"okay okay. it's seriously late and you need to sleep your jet lag off. go eat dinner then sleep."

"yes, ma'am." he salutes at you. you playfully rolled your eyes at him. he blows a kiss to the camera and you do the same before ending the facetime.

a knock at ni-ki's childhood bedroom makes you yelp, you looked up at who knocked on the door and it was konon. she smiles and points to the kitchen.

"my mom made some dinner for you before we left. she just heat it up, you should eat up and then go to sleep."

"oh, thank you." you say and konon leaves. you had gone to eat outside, bisco quietly follows you around as you had settled on the couch to eat. he lays his head comfortably on your lap. which was a little surprising considering you weren't someone bisco was familiar with.

after finishing up with dinner, you had cleaned up the plate and gone to sleep. once again, bisco had followed you into ni-ki's childhood room.

the next day, you and ni-ki's family were going over to the stadium. you'd think that you were just going to simply watch the concert but no. right before the concert, just hours before, you were brought backstage. ni-ki hugs you tightly.

"hi baby." he whispers in your ears. you smiled and wrapped your arms around his shoulder.

"hi." you replied. there was a furball following you around. stopping right at your ankles. "oh, bisco." you had picked him up. he doesn't exactly remember ni-ki since after all it's been years and ni-ki was different now then how he was back then at 14.

bisco looks up at ni-ki then looks away. ni-ki pouts and lets bisco smell his hand. maybe he would remember in a way. unfortunately, not at all. "maybe give him some time?" you say. ni-ki sighs.

"yeah, i know. this little furball is such a shit head. love him though." he ruffles the tiny dog before going over to his parents and hugging the both of them.

as time passes, the boys had to start their concert and so you and ni-ki's family had moved over to the designated seats that you guys were generously given. everyone around you (the engenes) were excitedly and patiently waiting for the concert to start. the lights dimmed and the concert starts.

there was a 7 clear silhouettes seen in the dark and everyone starts yelling. the song starts playing and that is truly when the chaos ensues. you were a little shocked by the yelling and screaming since you've never exactly seen this happen all the time. as time passes by, the boys were starting to wind down. they were talking about how fun they had.

"engenes!! thank you for enjoying today's concert. we will be sure to back next year for another concert here in okayama." jungwon says.

ni-ki picks up his mic, "engenes, i'm really thankful for every one of you for making my dream come true. i get to perform in my hometown and in front of my parents. there is something i have to confess though."

the stadium gets a little silent as ni-ki prepares what to say. "this may be controversial to say as an idol in a boy group. many of you might hate me. that is fine. you can't hate on enhypen. i-" he takes a deep breath in. "i have someone that i truly love. she's here and she's watching me perform in front of everyone that i love and care about. it would be great if you could also show her some love. she deserves the world. she managed to bring out the stronger version of myself today."

everyone was cheering. the boys weren't expecting for ni-ki to have revealed his relationship but they were still proud of him. he stood up for himself. they also knew this would impact the way k-pop was in a way. the culture and mindset behind dating.

"thank you engenes, i love you." he shyly showed a heart to the crowd.

after the concert ends, ni-ki's family and you had gone backstage again. you had ran up to ni-ki despite him still sweaty after the concert. he accepts your hug and held you tight.

"you've cause quite the stir, riki." you say as your voice was muffled due to his clothes. he laughs.

"i know but i had to let everyone know i'm madly in love with you." he says. you felt him peck the top of your head.

"what if they bullied you out of the group? you know how they are now with dating scandals." you asked him.

"don't worry, if the company doesn't do anything. i will. i'll kick whatever they send to HYBE and then throw it in the trash."

you laughed a little. "you're so adorable."

"not as adorable as you." he tilts your chin up and little and leans down to peck your lips. "i love you."

"i love you too."

taglist[perm]: @ja4hyvn @ahnneyong @milklix @kar0ki @sugarsunoo @http-gyu @simpforniki @vatterie @victoriazynui @myu3ki @jhopesucker @dimplewonie @chwlogy @ilovewonyo @xiaoderrrr @uwuheeseungie @miercerise @liikno @hxney-luga @tiktaktiki @ajayke-reads @yizhoutv @s00buwu @ilovehanni1 @starrpt2 @mystarryseas @moonliaworld @in-somnias-world @luvyev @engeneeee-168 @babyy-bambii @kimipxl @namau @gxwesn

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

A Song of Ice & Shadow

Part 18

You can read previous chapters here.

Summary: Azriel and Y/n engage in an intense sparring session. Later, she experiences her first period since turning, with Azriel and Cassian stepping in to help.

Warnings: mild mention of blood and slight violence.

Word Count: 4.3 K

That night, Azriel stood in the middle of the fighting ring, his wings tucked neatly behind him, when Y/n approached him, dressed in Illyrian leathers. Fortunately, he had kept his shirt on this time. Otherwise, she doubted she’d be able to focus on their training. Their gazes met briefly as they greeted each other before beginning basic stretches in silence. 

Azriel’s sharp hazel eyes observed her intently, noting the fluidity in her movements. When they finished, they took their fighting positions. The tension in the air was palpable, an unspoken challenge exchanged between them.

“Want me to say a few words before we start?” Azriel asked, his tone neutral but with a hint of teasing.

“Depends on these words,” Y/n quipped, a brow raised.

“I don’t know how you trained back in the mortal lands or which techniques you learned, so I’ll just say this: remember, it’s about balance and control. Don’t let your emotions dictate your actions.”

“Are you worried lightning is going to erupt from me?” she shot back, smirking faintly.

“No,” he replied smoothly. “But emotions tend to get the best of people when sparring. Want to strike first?”

“I’d rather if you did.”

 He nodded before they began sparring lightly. Azriel’s movements were smooth and controlled, while Y/n’s were sharp and precise. Each strike and block was executed with a blend of aggression and restraint, their bodies moving in a synchronized dance of combat.

“You’re holding back,” Y/n said between breaths, her voice laced with both challenge and frustration.

“You want me to go harder?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, his lips curving in the faintest of smiles.

“I heard training with you is ruthless. I don’t want you to go easy on me.”

“As you wish.” Azriel lunged forward, striking rapidly. Y/n deflected, her movements quick but not quick enough to completely avoid his calculated blows. Their bodies moved so close at times their breaths mingled. When Y/n attempted to sweep his legs, Azriel anticipated it and countered, knocking her off balance.

“Still want me to go further?” he asked, extending his hand to help her up.

“I know you haven’t even started,” she replied, taking his hand. 

As she jumped to her feet, she inadvertently closed the distance between them, their faces mere inches apart. Her chest rose and fell with her labored breathing. Azriel’s shadows coiled lazily around his neck as his hand lingered on her wrist, his thumb brushing over her pulse. 

Y/n’s eyes flickered for a split second to his lips before meeting his gaze again. “Come on, Shadowsinger, don’t be afraid to show me what you’ve got.”

He released her wrist with deliberate slowness, stepping back. “Afraid?” he chuckled, amusement in his voice as he spoke, “Alright. Let’s go again.”

They resumed sparring, but with every movement, every touch, their unspoken attraction simmered just beneath the surface. Although Y/n’s strikes became more aggressive, there was a softness in her gaze that belied her sharp moves. At one point, Azriel managed to pin her against the wall, his body pressing against hers. They paused, both breathing heavily as their hearts pounded. 

“You’re distracting me,” he muttered, his tone almost accusing.

“Is that what you tell your opponents on the battlefield?” she asked, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

“I wouldn’t say anything. They'd already be dead” he said coolly with confidence.

“Then how is it that you still haven’t managed to land a single blow?” 

Before he could speak, Y/n twisted out of his hold, catching him off guard and flipping him onto the ground. She straddled him, pinning his wrists above his head. He could’ve easily broken free, but something held him back- something about the fire in her eyes, the way her chest heaved with exertion.

“Guess I should’ve seen that coming,” he grinned up at her, his tone both impressed and amused.

Frustrated by his restraint, she punched him somewhat harder than necessary in the gut before standing, earning a groan from him.

Although this was a nice change, one she might have enjoyed under different circumstances, she wanted the pain, not the pleasure.

Azriel propped himself up on his elbows as she stood over him. The blow had clearly taken him by surprise, but there was also a spark of something else in his eyes- something that made her heart skip a beat.

He lifted his hand, silently asking for her help to get up. Without a second thought, she grasped it. But the second she did, he moved, swiftly and decisively, reversing their positions in one seamless motion. A startled gasp escaped her lips as her back met the floor in a controlled, almost gentle landing, his grip steady, ensuring she barely felt the impact. His weight pressed just enough to keep her pinned, his body hovering over hers, his shadows coiling lazily in the air between them. 

“That’s cheating,” she protested, eyes narrowing at him as she swallowed hard.

“Tell that to your opponents on the battlefield,” Azriel murmured, throwing her own words back at her.

“I wouldn’t extend my hand to my enemy,” she shot back, “but I’d drive a knife through their head.” She managed to wriggle one arm free, just enough to grab Truth-teller, the dark blade sheathed at his side, and pointed it at his throat.

“That’s cheating,” he repeated her words back to her again, a grin spreading across his lips. 

Y/n lingered, her grip on the dagger firm. She nudged the blade closer to his skin, just enough to draw a thin line of blood. Azriel’s gaze remained steady, unfazed, as if he was daring her to go further. “Do you enjoy the sight of blood?” he asked, shadows curling subtly around his shoulders.

“You have no idea,” she murmured teasingly.

In one swift movement, Azriel grabbed her wrist, disarming her and tossing the blade across the floor. However, she didn’t give him time to think; she kneed him sharply in the abdomen, forcing him to move just enough for her to slip out from under him and jump to her feet again.

“I’m starting to think you’re not as strong as everyone says you are,” she taunted, breathing heavily.

Azriel’s expression hardened, his eyes darkening as a grin curved his lips. “Fine, you want to play? Let’s play.” He got back into his fighting stance, a determined glint in his eyes. He’d warned her but she wanted violence.” That was just a warm-up.”

He moved swiftly, striking with a quick jab aimed at her midsection. Y/n blocked it but felt the force of his strength reverberate through her arms. She countered with a kick to his thigh, which landed solidly, eliciting a grunt from Azriel. But he was relentless, retaliating with a series of rapid punches, one of which finally connected with her shoulder and knocked her off balance. She staggered back, the impact making her wince slightly. That was going to leave a bruise. 

Azriel immediately hesitated. He’d never hit a female before, and he sure as hell hadn’t meant to strike her that hard. His eyes flickered with worry and fear, a rare flash of uncertainty breaking through his usal control. And she caught it. Saw it.

She rolled her shoulder, masking the ache with a smirk. “Not bad, but you’ll have to do better than that. I’m not convinced yet.” The words weren’t just a taunt. They were meant for him. A silent reassurance. A reminder that she could take it. That she wasn’t fragile. That she was alright. 

She lunged at him, landing a few hits that barely fazed him. But she was beginning to tire; the constant barrage of blocks and counterattacks were wearing her down. Azriel, on the other hand, seemed to have a boundless well of stamina. She could feel the exhaustion creeping into her muscles, slowing her movements.

She tried to go for his rib, but he was faster and dodged every strike with ease. Then, in one swift maneuver, he landed a punch that sent her sprawling to the ground. Y/n hit the mat hard, the force knocking the breath from her lungs.

For a moment, she lay there, blinking up at the night sky, her chest rising and falling as she fought to gather her strength. 

Azriel flinched as soon as his punch hit its mark. Regret flashed across his face. He was at her side in an instant, about to extend his hand, but before he could, she pushed herself up quickly, shaking off the pain. Determination burned in her eyes, outshining the exhaustion laced in her voice.. “Is that all you’ve got?” 

His jaw tightened. He knew he’d hurt her, and he hated himself for it. But the way she got back up, the fire in her gaze, it made it easier to swallow down the self-loathing. He forced himself to stay composed. “Not even close.”

After an hour, they were circling each other again, both showing signs of the intense fight, her more than him, given that she lacked his years of practice, his raw strength. But she was still standing, still fighting.

Azriel moved in with a flurry of punches, each one landing solidly, forcing her further anf further back. She tried to block and counter, but his strength and speed overwhelmed her. Then, one particularly hard, unintended punch sent her reeling. She dropped to one knee, a sharp gasp escaping her lips.

Azriel stilled, his expression shifting. “You’ve had enough yet?” His voice was steady, but there was an unmistakable thread of concern beneath it. 

He extended his hand to her, which she gladly took, gripping hard, using his strength to pull herself up.

Teeth gritted, she exhaled through the burn in her limbs. “Never,” she rasped, though her voice was hoarse, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps.

They resumed circling each other, but Azriel could see it, the way her limbs trembled slightly, the faint hitch in her breath, the way she forced herself to keep going despite her body screaming at her to stop. She was pushing herself too far. 

So he eased up again, letting her block the weak strikes he threw her way, knowing she wouldn’t stop otherwise. But she wasn’t blind. 

After some time, he knew she wouldn’t stop, so he made a decision. If she wanted to keep going, he wasn’t going to let her land a single blow. She was already exhausted, her movements slowing, her breath coming in sharp bursts, She wouldn’t last much longer.

“Want to stop?” he asked, stepping back to give her a moment to recover. 

She shook her head, unable to speak, swatting at the air in front of her, a feeble attempt to show she wasn’t done. But her punches were losing strength, her swings clumsy with fatigue. Azriel barely had to move to dodge them now.

“You’re going easy on me again,” she bit out, frustration tightening her features, her voice raw with exertion. Despite everything, the ache in very muscle, the bruises already forming, she refused to yield. 

Azriel exhaled quietly, observing her determined eyes. She wasn’t going to back down. No matter how exhausted, no matter how much her body protested, she would keep going until she collapsed.

He finally spoke again,  his voice firm but gentle. “You’ve had enough.”A beat of silence. “I’m sure the blows I landed are going to leave bruises all over your body. We can continue this another time.”

“Fine,” she relented, finally bending over, hands braced on her knees as she struggled to catch her breath. She felt utterly drained, her muscles and lungs burning with exhaustion. 

Azriel approached her with a cup of water, offering it to her. “Drink up,” he said, a faint smile softening his usually stoic expression. “You need to stay hydrated.”

Y/n took the cup, gulping the water down in one swift motion.

“Are you alright?” he asked, watching her closely, arms crossed.

“Never better,” she said, though her voice lacked its usual edge.

Azriel chuckled softly. “You know, if this is how you fight on your first day, I wonder what you have in store for me when you build up your muscles and stamina.”

“Just wait and see,” she replied, though the thought of more intense training sessions made her wince inwardly.

The next morning, every muscle in her body protested as she dragged herself to the dining room. Cassian, Nesta, and Azriel were already there, eating breakfast. 

“Good morning, Y/n,” Cassian greeted and she nodded. He gave her a curious look, noticing her slow movement and discomfort.. “Are you alright?” 

“Yes, just sore” she replied, wincing slightly as she took a seat. Azriel glanced at her, a knowing look passing over his face before he returned to his cup of tea.

“Why? We haven't practiced for two days,” Cassian noted, confused.

“I may have practiced without you,” Y/n said, keeping her eyes on her plate. She wasn’t about to  tell him she’d been training with Azriel, so that one day she might defeat him. No, she did not want him to be ready for her. No need to give him ideas- or any advantage.

Cassian placed a hand over his chest in mock offense.“I feel hurt.”

“Well, get over it,” she retorted, shrugging.

Azriel let out a quiet chuckle, drawing Cassian’s attention. His brows knitted as he zeroed in on something. “What happened to you?” 

Azriel’s brow furrowed in confusion before Cassian clarified, “There’s a cut on your throat.”

Azriel only shrugged. “It’s nothing-”

“Don’t you always have cuts and bruises all over your body?” Y/n interrupted, quickly deflecting attention. “I assumed as warriors, you did.”

Cassian supposed they did, but squinted at her, not understanding her sudden interference. Suspicion crept into his expression. Unless-

—-

Y/n was seated in her armchair, the fresh night breeze playing with the loosened strands of her braid, moonlight casting a soft glow around her as she knitted a scarf. A knock sounded at her door. She knew who it was and just hoped he wouldn’t ask her to train tonight. 

Sighing, she took a deep breath before opening the door.

Azriel stood there, his shadows subtly shifting behind him. “You’re awake?”

Y/n narrowed her eyes, leaning against the doorframe. “Were you hoping I wasn’t?”

He huffed a soft laugh. “No- I just wanted to tell you that I won’t be here to train with you for the next few days.”

She tilted her head slightly, studying him. “You’re not running away from me, are you?”

Another quiet chuckle. “No. I wouldn’t dream about it. Something came up.”

Y/n gave him a knowing look. “I understand. Happy spying.” 

“Good luck with Cass.”

Her brows furrowed. “Why?”

Azriel smirked. “I might have heard he’s going to give you a hard time tomorrow.”

She groaned. “That arrogant asshole.”

His smirk widened slightly. “I’ll see you around.”

—-

Y/n gritted her teeth as she dropped to one knee, panting heavily. “Alright, I admit, I need to work on my stamina, but you don’t have to go this hard on me.” 

Cassian barely looked winded. He smirked, stretching his arms. “We haven’t even started yet.”

She scowled as he effortlessly demonstrated another set of grueling exercises.

“Alright, alright, I get it. You’re a big, muscled warrior and this is nothing to you… showoff.” She sneered, standing up with a groan.

Cassian grinned, clearly enjoying her struggle. “I’m glad you think so.” 

Y/n rolled her eyes. “Are you punishing me for skipping yesterday’s exercises?”

Cassian’s smirk turned wicked. “Possibly.”

Suspicion flickered across her face. “Wait… don’t tell me it’s because I actually trained without you.”

“I’ll stop this torture if you agree to spar with me once.”

Y/n narrowed her eyes. “Ah, so you can beat my ass and never let me hear the end of it? No thanks.”

“I’ll go easy on you.”

She snorted. “That’s even worse. But mark my words, the day I spar with you, I’m going to defeat you.”

Cassian’s grin widened. “Confidence, I like that.”

“And your arrogance is going to be the reason you will lose to me.” She winked at him.

He barked out a laugh. “We’ll see.”

—

“How’s Cassian treating you?” Azriel asked, watching her carefully.

Y/n wiped the sweat from her brow. “He’s being the usual prick he is.”

His lips twitched. “I see. But at least your stamina is better. You lasted longer than last time.” 

She shot him a glare.

“Can I ask you something without you getting defensive?”

She hesitated. “Depends on the question.”

Azriel shrugged. “Then never mind.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Shoot.”

“What happened between you and Nesta?”

Her body stiffened slightly. “Well, that’s an unexpected question. Why do you ask?”

He raised a brow. “You’re getting defensive.”

She sighed heavily. “We had a fight.”

“And? This isn’t the first time you’ve fought with your sisters.”

She swallowed, looking away. “I said some mean things to her that I didn’t mean. I have this… toxic trait where I use the other person’s insecurities and weaknesses against them, just to push them away. I walked away from her when she needed me the most.” Guilt weighed heavily in her voice.

Azriel studied her, his expression unreadable. “Did you tell her that?” 

Y/n just gave him a look that clearly said, what do you think?

“You could try talking to her soon,” he said after a moment. “You live in the same house now, and I believe she misses you. She still cares about you.”

Her jaw tightened. “I know.”

He took a step closer. “Then why?”

She exhaled slowly. “It’s better this way.”

His gaze darkened slightly. “Do you enjoy making yourself suffer?”

Y/n turned to him, an almost bitter smirk forming. “You’re talking too much, Shadowsinger. Get back in position.”

Azriel chuckled softly. “So you haven’t had enough of me kicking your ass?”

She rolled her shoulders, stepping back into a defensive stance. “You wish.”

—

The next morning, Y/n woke up to an unbearable pain radiating through her abdomen. She barely managed to stumble into her bathing chamber before realizing she had just gotten her period. 

She had forgotten about all this. Feyre told her about how painful it would be, but she hadn’t experienced it when her sisters had, so she assumed she never would, since it had been over a year since she’d turned. But she was wrong. She didn’t know how and why it happened or rather why it didn’t come earlier. Why now? Was it hormones? Stress? Anxiety? Or was it something else- something to do with being Cauldron-made? She didn’t know.

When she didn’t appear for practice, Cassian went to find her. 

“Go away, I’m not feeling well,” she muttered from behind the door.

“What’s wrong?” Cassian asked.

Y/n gritted her teeth, gripping her sheets so hard, her knuckles turned while. “Just leave, please.” She could barely move, let alone walk downstairs for food, a warm compress, or anything that might ease the pain. 

Cassian hesitated. “I’m coming in.” 

Before she could protest, the door opened, and Cassian was at her side in an instant when he saw the state she was in. His expression shifted to concern. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

She groaned, curling further into herself. “I can’t- it’s too much.”

Cassian crouched beside her, brows furrowed. “What is?”

“The pain.” Her voice was strained.  “I just got my period for the first time- my fae period.”

Cassian blinked. “Oh? Oh! I- uh- I can get Feyre. She’ll know what to do.”

“NO!”

Cassian held up his hands. “Okay, okay! What do you need?”

“Something for the fucking pain.”

Cassian was at a loss. He didn’t know what to do. She did not want Feyre’s help, and he wasn’t exactly an expert in this department. The only other female he could think of was Mor, and he was pretty sure Y/n wouldn’t want her involved either. He didn’t know whether he should go to Feyre for advice despite her clear refusal, or stay and try to figure something himself.

He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, alright. Stay here. I’ll try to find something.”

She glared at him. “Does it look like I can go anywhere?”

Cassian winced. “Sorry.”

Luckily, he found Azriel in the hallway. After a brief exchange, they decided that Azriel would talk to Feyre, while Cassian fetched a warm compress.

When Cassian returned, Y/n was curled up tightly, arms wrapped around herself.

“I got you this. I hope it helps.” He handed her the compress, his face full of sympathy. “I’m sorry I can’t do more.”

Y/n groaned. “You lucky bastards. How do your females endure this?”

Cassian shrugged. “I have no idea.”

Y/n huffed. “Add this to the list of reasons I hate Fae-kind.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

“No. Just go.”

“Alright, if you need anything just shout, I’ll be down the hall.”

Azriel returned not long after, knocking softly on her door before stepping inside. He was holding a steaming cup in one hand and a small glass vial in the other. Feyre had insisted on coming with him. She had tried, more than once, but Azriel stood firm. He’d stood against his High Lady and told her that Y/n didn’t wish to see her. Feyre had reluctantly stopped pushing, knowing he was right. Instead, she gave him instructions and some ingredients before letting him go.

“Hey,” his voice was gentler than usual as he approached her bedside. “Drink this. It’ll help with the cramps.”

Y/n eyes the cup suspiciously. “What is it, and how do you know?” 

But before he could answer, she grabbed the cup and took a cautious sip, then immediately grimaced. “Ugh. That’s awful.”

Azriel smiled slightly. “It’s chamomile, ginger, a bit of willow bark, and other herbs. Feyre said it would ease your pain.”

Her entire body tensed at the mention of her sister. “You talked to Feyre?” Even through pain, her eyes darkened with irritation.

Azriel exhaled, unfazed by her glare. “What else was I supposed to do? Cassian and I aren’t exactly experts on this.”

She scowled but reluctantly took another sip. “Fine, I got it. You can leave now.”

He didn’t move. Instead, he held up the small vial. “I’m supposed to rub this between my palms and massage your lower abdomen.” 

Her brows shot up. “Excuse me?”

“It’s lavender oil mixed with other herbs. It’ll relax the muscles and help relieve the pain.”

She blinked, staring at the vial, then at him, as if trying to determine if he was serious. “I can do it on my own,” she muttered, reaching for it.

He hesitated for a bear before handing it to her. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She waved him off, her voice clipped. “You can leave now. Thank you.”

He nodded but lingered for a moment. “When the effects start to wear off, I’ll bring you another cup of tea.”

Y/n didn’t respond, already focused on the vial in her hand. As the door closed behind him, she let out a slow breath, her body still wracked with discomfort.

That day and the next few days were absolute hell, but at least the tea Azriel prepared for her helped a little.

His knock became a regular sound. Always soft, always followed by his quiet presence. He didn’t hover too much, but he was there when it counted, slipping into the room with another mug of tea or a fresh compress as if he’d memorized when she needed them most. He didn’t ask unnecessary questions, didn’t try to push her into talking, but his gaze was always watchful, always reading her in ways that made her feel exposed.

“Hey,” he said gently, knocking again on the third morning before stepping inside with another steaming cup. His shadows curled faintly around him before extending to her.

She glanced at him from her spot on the bed, her face pale and drawn. “You don’t have to keep doing this,” she muttered, though her voice lacked its usual bite. “I’m not dying.” 

She hated asking for help, hated relying on someone else, hated being taken care of. She wasn’t used to any of it, and she sure as hell didn’t want anyone, especially him to see her as weak. But the cramps were too much for her to even think about leaving the bed.

Azriel tilted his head slightly, studying her with those piercing hazel eyes. “You sure about that?” His tone was light, laced with dry humor, as he set the tea down on the nightstand.

She managed a faint glare, though it was undermined by the way her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for the cup. “I’m sure.” The bitter taste made her grimace, but she forced it down, knowing it was helping even if she didn’t want to admit it.

Azriel pulled the armchair from the corner and settled into it with a quiet sigh, his wings shifting as he leaned back.

She tried to sit up, watching him warily. “What are you doing? I don’t need you to babysit me, you know.”

“I’m not babysitting.” His voice was calm, unwavering. “I’m just… making sure you’re not suffering alone.”

She  scoffed, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. “Is that what my sister told you to say?”

He held her gaze, his expression unreadable. “No. It’s what I decided.”

Something in his tone made her pause, her chest tightening slightly. Damn him. She hated how easily he could disarm her, how his presence felt like both a challenge and a comfort. She hated that she didn’t hate it as much as she knew she should.

She exhaled, closing her eyes again. “Well, congratulations, Shadowsinger. Mission accomplished.” Her voice was edged with dry amusement. “I’m still suffering, but I’m not alone.”

A quiet chuckle escaped him, though his chest twisted at the sight of her in pain. “I’ll take that as a win.”

Tags: @st4r-girl-official @judig92 @5onedirection5 @nayaniasworld @blackgirlmagicforever @stained-glass-eyes0708 @slytherintaco @aehllita @nebarious @t0uch-starved-h0e @bravo-delta-eccho @sylvermoon @going-through-shit @latinxbipride @i-am-infinite @azrielrot @fuckingsimp4azriel @theravenphoenix26 @hanatsuki-hime @fantanbietsson @rcarbo1 @weasleymagic @secretsicanthideanymore @spymaster03 @elaselat @minnieoo @noisyinfluencerstrawberry @daughterofthemoons-stuff @jojodojo02 @questionmymentality @romantasyreader28 @cassie-at-college-blog @dabiloverphoenix @hippop345 @fan-of-many-bands @freefalls06-blog @yesiamthatwierd @ms-dont-care

[moonmunson]

hello my old heart

a/n: wally clark has invaded my brain space and i cannot seem to rid him from my mind his himbo charms have seduced me. just in my mind this is set in the late '90s, but mr. martin isn't evil. none of the other kids are really mentioned by name, but this would be a few years after charley's death. as always i'm writing with a plus sized!reader in mind but anyone can read it.

summary: struggling with becoming comfortable in death, wally has made himself your new buddy.

cw: general angst and sadness over being dead, wally is a sweetheart who just wants to help. hurt/comfort with a sweet ending and a little bit of kissing. gn!reader, theatre kid x jock

wc: 2.1k

You think you’ve been dead for a little over a week. It’s hard to tell - time moves so differently here. It feels like static on the skin, the way the TV screen feels fuzzy when you touch it after it's been turned off. You haven’t spoken much, and the other dead kids don’t expect you to for a while. They’ve all told you that everyone reacts differently to their death, that there’s no right or wrong way to cope. 

You’re worried that if you open your mouth, it’ll be difficult to stop crying. Or screaming, or both. So you sit quietly in the circle in the gymnasium, listening as Mr. Martin leads the support group meeting. You’re appreciative of his trying to get you to open up, but you’re only capable of responding in nods and shrugs. When it’s over, you go to make your way back to the auditorium. It might be weird to some, considering you died there, but it’s still the place you feel the safest.

A few steps out of the gym, you hear pounding footsteps coming up next to you. It’s Wally, because of course it is. He’s dubbed himself your ‘Unofficial death guide.’ He’s the sweetest, and you wish you could actively participate in conversation with him. 

“You goin’ back to the auditorium?” When he talks, you have to crane your head to the right and all the way up because he’s so fucking tall. You nod, and he parrots it. 

“I don’t know how you can go back to that place. I couldn’t even look at the football field for like a week after I died.” Even when you don’t respond, Wally keeps going. “I also don’t know how you stand sharing a space with Mina. She's, like, totally scary.” He makes a face then, pinched up, like he’s imagining being trapped in a room with the other, objectively more aggressive theatre ghost.

It makes you giggle. Like, audibly giggle. Wally’s eyes widen, surprised that he was able to get a noise out of you. He laughs in return, a breathless exhale. He’s clearly proud of himself. 

“I have got to get you to do that again.” You shake your head no, even though the smile hasn’t left your face. “I’m serious, I have got to hear that laugh again!” 

When you round the corner near the front office, you stop in your tracks, the smile on your face quickly fading. Your mom and dad are there, holding a box with everything that was in your locker. It’s a weird feeling. You hadn’t forgotten you were dead, obviously, but everything had felt very up in the air.

Like the moment before a show starts - everyone sitting in the audience, the curtain still down to block the view of actors taking their places. Like limbo. Seeing your parents, their tear stricken faces, that makes it feel real. Too real. The sharp breath you take in alerts Wally to the fact that something is wrong, and he follows your gaze to the two adults standing at the front desk. 

“Oh shit, are those your parents?” Wally asks, his voice taking a softer tone. He has a volume control problem, everyone knows it, and you’re appreciative that he’s quieted down for this.

You nod, a small jerk of your head. He brings a tentative hand up to your shoulder, and when you don’t move away, he places it more firmly. “I’m so sorry, y/n. I really am. Do you wanna go up and see them?” 

You don’t answer, you just walk away. Wally calls after you, but doesn’t follow. 

The auditorium truly is your safe space. You were never brave enough to actually perform anything, though your teacher had begged you to. She’d heard you singing to yourself one day, and asked why you’d never auditioned for anything. You’d just deflected and said the stage fright would make you freeze. She’d been understanding, but encouraged you to think about auditioning for the show this year. 

You were a senior, it’d been your last opportunity to be in the spotlight, but by the time auditions came around you’d chickened out. The hidden disappointment on your teacher’s face wasn’t so hidden, but she made sure you had your usual spot on the tech and run crew portion of the show.

You died a few weeks later, tripping off of the stage while setting up a set piece and breaking your neck falling into the orchestra pit. Like a sick fucking joke. 

Now, you sit in the audience, gazing at the stage. It’s still blocked off by crime tape. The show for the end of the year has been effectively cancelled on account of your dying. ‘Postponed indefinitely’ is the term the overhead announcements had used, but you all knew what that actually meant. It just wasn’t gonna happen. 

You mostly just feel numb. Obviously your death isn’t something you could ever prepare for, and just like every other ghost in the building, your life had been unfairly cut short. Just like everyone else, you’d had plans for the rest of your life. None of them solid or reliable, but you’d had some idea of what you wanted your life to look like. A well paying job that you genuinely enjoyed, maybe a husband or wife and a few kids. All of that is gone now. 

Your parents in the front office felt like a kick to the gut, salt in the wound. The look on your mom’s face, the way your dad was cradling the box of your things like if he held tight to it enough it would bring you back.. it was too much to bear.

And Wally, sweet, kind, Wally. He’s been trying really hard with you, and you can’t even work up the nerve to say something to him. To thank him for being there for you, or answer any of the many questions or jokes he throws your way. 

You don’t even realize the tears are streaming down your face until they drip onto your hands in your lap. Once you feel the first one, the rest fall in quick succession and before you know it, you’re audibly sobbing in the empty theatre. It’s almost embarrassing, the way your cries echo because of the acoustics. 

Wally comes in quietly, and sits down next to you. You’ve been too preoccupied to notice anything other than your tears, heavy and streaking down your cheeks. He doesn’t say anything, just wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. He’s warm, and when you grab the front of his sweatshirt, he holds you tighter.

It takes a while for you to calm down - you’d been holding everything in for too long - you were bound to bubble over and explode at some point. When you feel yourself come back to your body, Wally is still holding you. He’s stroking your head and whispering comforts to you. You don’t deserve him, you think.

He’s still rubbing your back when you pull away to look at him, but you’re distracted by the wet spot on his sweatshirt - the light grey darkened by your tears. 

“Oh,” you whisper, your voice cracking from how long it’s been since you’ve spoken, “I’m sorry.”

Wally’s eyes widen, not prepared for you to start talking, and he jumps to console you. “Woah, hey, don’t even worry about it. This ratty old thing? I’ve been wearing it for like, almost twenty years.” He giggles a bit, continuing, “I honestly think this is the closest this thing has been to a washing machine even longer than that, so. No sweat, promise.”

You nod, thanking him. 

“Are you, like…” he trails off, not sure how to ask you if you’re okay. It’s a silly question, he knows that. “I remember the first time I saw my parents after I died. There was a vigil on the football field like a week after it happened. Everyone was there, and they were all crying and it was so weird. I didn’t feel dead yet, like I hadn’t accepted that it really happened.”

“That must’ve been really hard for you, Wally. I’m really sorry.” Your eyes meet, and he shrugs.

He smiles, a sad, nostalgic thing. He can’t tell you it’s okay, because it’s not. Instead, he goes to hold your hand. “I promise it will get better. It just takes some time. It’s gonna suck for a while, but we’re all here for you. I’m here for you.” His thumb rubs circles on the top or your hand, and you smile up at him. 

“Thanks, Wally. I really appreciate it.” Your interconnected hands are grounding you. It’s the first time you’ve felt a semblance of peace since you died. “Do you mind if we sit here for a little bit? It’s quiet, I don’t want to leave yet.” He nods, and the two of you just sit there.

Just like Wally said it would, it gets easier.

You start going to more of the meetings with Mr. Martin, and you actually start participating. It was weird at first - you thought people would make a big deal out of your finding your voice again, but they just smiled, proud of your growth. Wally has been your biggest cheerleader, but they’re all really supportive. Even Rhonda, though she still sports her gloomy demeanor. 

When they fix up the stage and clear the crime scene tape, the school holds your vigil there. Wally is right there with you in the audience, holding your hand while your parents speak. Your theatre teacher speaks too, and talks highly of you. Your brightness, the passion you had for theatre. When she says you had a beautiful voice, that you could’ve been somebody, she directs it at your parents. They agree, it seems. 

There are still days where it's really hard. You retreat back into your shell, refusing to leave the auditorium or speak to anyone. Wally's patience with you is endless, and when you allow him to stay with you, he spends all day cracking jokes to help you feel better.

One day, instead of letting you isolate yourself, he drags you out onto the football field to get some sun. "We don't really need vitamin D anymore, but I really think it'll help. C'mon, the sun on your skin? Wind in your hair? Can't beat that, babe." He leads you out onto the field - one hand clasped in yours and the other holding a backpack.

The pet names are a new thing, but you don't mind it. He'd slipped one day, called you sweetheart, and immediately backtracked and apologized profusely. All you could do was laugh and call him cute.

"Where did you even get that?" you giggle, following him to a spot under a tree near the edge of the field. "Did you steal that from someone?"

He drops your hand to bring it to his own chest, offended at your assumption. "Me? Steal? I can't believe you'd think so lowly of me," he plops onto the grass, patting the spot next to him, "Yeah I totally stole it, emptied it out, and then filled it with a shit ton of snacks and drinks so we could have a picnic out here." He unzips the bag, pulling out at least ten different bags of chips and candy bars.

"This is really sweet, Wally," you can feel your face heat up, though hopefully it'll just look like it's because of the heat. "It's like a date, almost." His head shoots up to look at you, pink dusting his cheeks and ears.

"Y-yeah, if you want it to be. If you think you're ready for that kind of thing." He stutters, a nervous boyish thing. He's the sweetest person ever.

“I am, I think,” you nod while you’re talking, like you’ve made up your mind, “You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met.” Wally ducks his head down, chin meeting his chest. He’s fully blushing now - it’s the cutest thing you’ve seen in a long time. 

“C’mere,” he whispers, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and maneuvering your body so your back is pressed up against his chest, head resting in the space between his head and shoulder, “is this okay?” 

You turn your head to try and look at him, and he angles his towards you. His face is inches from yours, and if you had a heartbeat, it’d be beating wildly right now. You can almost feel it, the pitter patter of it in your chest. Your hand comes up to cradle his cheek, rubbing your thumb over the space under his eye. You nod, and move in to kiss him. 

His lips are so soft, and the way they move in conjunction with yours provides much needed relief. You stay like that for a few minutes, and when you’re done, he rests his forehead against yours. Eyes closed, feeling the gentle breeze sweeping up the hill you’re sitting on. You never had anything like this when you were still alive, the easy conversation and back and forth banter. He’s your new safe space. You don’t have to worry about anything when you’re with him. 

“This is perfect.”

a/n: wally clark is actually so special to me and when i think about him for too long i get very emotional. my shayla. i wrote this in the span of like a day and a half so if there are any mistakes i'm sorry LMAO

if you liked this story, please like and reblog!! it'd mean the world to me, even if you just drop a silly comment. i want to write more for wally because he desperately needs more stories on here.

[smolkooks]

joshua hong's recipe for valentine's

summary: jisoo knows you like the back of his hand. he hopes. (he does). which almost makes asking you out for valentine’s day even more intimidating. 

pairing: joshua (svt) x you

genre: college au, fluff

*

“hey alexa,” joshua called out into the emptiness of his bedroom, “what the fuck am i supposed to do?”

the sound of jeonghan’s quip cut through the air before alexa could even process joshua’s complaint, “don’t think ai is equipped to help with your relationship problems.” jeonghan rounded the corner and popped his head through the door, an amused smirk quirking up the corner of his lips.

“there are no relationship problems!” joshua buried his hands in his hair, “there’s no relationship problems, that’s the problem,” his tone trailed off hopelessly as he banged his forehead onto the table hoping that the brief pain would knock some sense into his brain.

“haven’t you two known each other for like, most of college? i’m sure she won’t mind no matter what you do,” jeonghan offered, and joshua knew he was trying to be helpful but the advice only made him feel worse.

“you know that feeling,” joshua began, spinning around on his chair to face his friend, “when you know someone too well? when you feel like they’ve seen everything and nothing will surprise them? fuck, she’ll probably notice something in my expression the day before or like sniff me out when i slip up on a sentence or something.” usually, he loved how detail-oriented you were, but in moments like these, he wished you were a bit more oblivious.

“you’re giving her too much credit, man,” jeonghan said with a shrug, “don’t think she’s going to be that perceptive.” he appreciatively eyed the pastel bouquet and origami paper that joshua had strewn across his desk and then said, “there’s no way she’d see all of this coming.

“you don’t know her,” joshua groaned, already fearing the worst. he’d spent the better part of the week planning all your valentine’s day gifts—brainstorming and ripping his hair out and agitating over making every detail perfect. he was not about to let you sniff anything out or become at all suspicious beforehand.

he truly did know you too well, because his very first dilemma arose just an hour later, after jeonghan had left for his evening class and he was alone in his apartment, putting together your gift when his phone had pinged with a message.

from: y/nnie

josh wyd

to: y/nnie

lmao wtf so random

immediately he knew he’d fucked up. because texts at this time from you were a daily occurrence, and his response was too fucking unnatural. but unfortunately he’d been so preoccupied with folding origami puppies and tucking them into the bouquet he’d picked out earlier this morning and surprised by your text that he replied without thinking.

as he went to edit the message, your read receipt came through and he resisted the urge to cry as your typing bubble showed up.

from: y/nnie

don’t be weird...

from: y/nnie

if ur free i’m gonna come over i’m dropping something off

from: y/nnie

jeonghan said ur home

joshua’s eyes widened as he cast a glance over the ginormous mess on his desk. he’d been planning to meet you later tonight anyway, yes, but not immediately! he still had to put together the last of the origami animals and also finish off wrapping your actual gift...

but then again, if he said no, you would for sure instantly know something was up anyway, so there was absolutely no winning. not unless he became an origami monster immediately and finished your bouquet within the next five minutes.

panicked, he started to type a response:

to: y/nnie

give me like twenty min pls

ty

from: y/nnie

alr

cya

tossing his phone onto his bed, he locked into the origami flower youtube video that he was up to. he didn’t think he’d ever been so focused before, not even during his final exams, not even during his driving test, not even ever. there were high stakes at play here, and he was not about to let all his plans fall apart. in fact, he tried to convince himself, you coming over was a blessing. the thought of seeing you did put a smile on his face, as stressed as he was about the lopsided paper tulips that he was currently mass producing.

within ten minutes, he’d tucked the final ones of his origami projects between the pastel petals of the bouquet he’d picked out earlier in the morning and began to survey his next project: the actual gift.

gritting his teeth determinedly, he set to work.

*

joshua was being weird, you’d decided, as you switched off your phone with a frown. why did it feel like he was so nervous? you visited him and jeonghan’s dorm all the time, it wasn’t like an out of the blue event, right...?

the doubts continued to cloud your train of thought as you surveyed the gifts that you’d prepared. flowers, of course, for your best boy. bead sets, a new phone case, matching smiski hippers for the two of you, his favourite snacks...you’d gotten everything he’d mentioned wanting. (except for the apartment by the seaside. you weren’t financially successful enough yet for that. one day).

as far as relationships went, yours and joshua’s was relatively fresh despite having known each other ever since the first week of freshman year. you’d been together for two months give or take, just in time to settle down for a proper valentine’s day—your first with a boyfriend, and you were determined to make it the best.

you’d even purposefully visited him almost every evening so that your visit today wouldn’t seem as suspicious. you hoped he wasn’t suspicious. as you switched your phone back on and read over your chats again, you realised maybe you did come across a little nervous...drop something off? you were lucky he didn’t question it today. it was so vague, and at the same time, lowkey obvious considering the date...

you hoped he’d overlook it.

the trek to joshua and jeonghan’s apartment wasn’t far at all. in fact, he lived one building down the road, so carrying all your gift boxes wasn’t that much of a hassle. you’d made the walk so often that you knew it better than the back of your hand, so when you arrived at his door, you couldn’t help the familiar smile that curved on your lips.

“josh!” you called out alongside your knock.

you heard his faint response and then some banging around before the door finally opened.

“HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!”

your overlapping voices made your eyes widen in shock. when you finally registered the sight in front of you, you realised joshua was also holding an armful of gifts—a massive bouquet of origami and real flowers blended together so prettily, and another bag of pristinely wrapped presents.

he seemed equally as shocked—his hair a little unkempt but still cute, glasses sitting low on the bridge of his nose as he blinked at you through the doorway—at all of the stuff that you were holding out to him.

“y/n,” he managed, as you huffed a laugh of disbelief, “there’s—what—wait, i was going to surprise you.” he glanced down pointedly at all the things in his arms, and you laughed in earnest.

“you did, josh,” you said with an amused giggle, finally stepping into the apartment and letting joshua shut the door behind you, “i think we scared the shit out of each other.”

you set down the bouquet you’d brought on his dining table as he did the same to the bouquet he had prepared, before he was ushering you to sit down, a faint blush on his cheeks as he said, “i can’t believe this.”

“great minds think alike!” you exclaimed, as you noticed the little puppies he’d tucked into the flowers, “wait, josh, hold on—,” you did a double take as you looked closer at the bouquet, “did you put sonny angels in the flowers?”

he sat down beside you and rolled his eyes in an ‘obviously’ way, “they’re your favourite, aren’t they?”

“stop it,” you said in disbelief, your surprise continuing to multiply, “you’re so crazy josh. this is why i love you.”

“because of the sonny angels in the flowers?”

it was your turn to roll your eyes as you shoved him a little, “no, idiot. because we know each other too well.”

[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.

[crtakespropogandist]

CR 3 finale dump pt. 3 - Putting my finger on it

I enjoyed the campaign while I was watching it for the most part, because the cast's antics and chemistry always make me smile. But I invariably engaged the most during the tie-ins and cameos bringing back the PCs and NPCs from previous campaigns, and I couldn't summon the same investment for this one. I was ruminating on why that was, and here is what I came up with:

Campaign 3 didn't "work" like the other two because the characters, the plot, and the setting were not integrated. Matt had an epic storyline in mind that could dramatically change Exandria. He also had two lovingly designed settings, Marquet and Ruidus, the fruits of great collaborative labor that he wanted to show off. Finally, he wanted to let his friends have total control in conceptualizing their characters. The result is that the players and Matt seemed really afraid of stepping on each other's (and the other creatives') toes, and the narrative hurt for it.

Character hooks led away from the plot and setting. Setting hooks led away from the plot and characters. Plot hooks led away from the setting and characters. The cast ultimately had to follow the plot, leaving PCs uninvested and locations underutilized along with all their resident NPCs. Freaking Vox Machina had stronger relationships with Marquesian NPCs.

Yet Matt was still discouraged from taking time away from exploring new places and meeting new people for a deeper dive on Delilah Briarwood. Why didn't Ludinus give Tal'Dorei a heads up when the Briarwoods became fugitives? Did he help them in exchange for residuum? Did they steal his obsessive research on the Matron's ritual for Vecna to use? Maybe Jiana Hexum knows something abou...oop BH left Jrusar and forgot all about her. Matt was also discouraged from leaving shiny new Marquet any earlier for Aeor 2: Electric Boogaloo, which left FCG high and dry. The self-imposed balance between the three key story elements was impossible to maintain in a satisfactory way.

VM and M9 are native to their campaigns' respective continents (except my boy Tary ofc), and the plot evolved organically from personal stakes intrinsic to those settings. Moments like "I am no friend to the empire" and "It's Lady Vex'ahlia" are off the table when the party is Oops! All Transients. The worst irony is that Matt undermined the players' autonomy by unilaterally deciding that Caleb and Beau utterly fumbled the task Liam and Marisha set them to in their C2 epilogues. Liam's frustration at the Key scene was palpable. My fellow viewers who only hopped aboard on Campaign 3 can get weirdly defensive against C2's "encroachment" and C2 enjoyers (also fellows of mine) wishing it would "encroach" more. Ludinus was introduced in C2. The ruins of Aeor and Molaesmyr are in Wildmount. Dunamancy is centralized in Wildmount. The Nein spent time in Aeor, in Uthodurn, in the Dynasty. The Nein have gods. What experiments did Ludinus conduct in Vergessen? What are the specifics about what Ludinus did in Molaesmyr, what he's done throughout his life of scheming? It's pretty safe to guess that the Nein would have found out given another chance. Could you imagine how Campaign 2 might have panned out if Beau and Caleb reeeaaally grilled Demid Sunlash and followed up on where he went? (Also Ruidusborn!Essek would have made so much sense I'm vibrating) (Also also d'ya think Eadwulf was always supposed to be a real Matron follower, or could he have been set up as a Paragon's Call/Vanguard type reporting to Ludinus?)

The Mighty Nein are a party with a collective INT that blows BH out of the water. Even as someone introduced to the stream via BH, I can't help but agree with Beau's "Why not us?" comments. Why not give the Wildmount party the Wildmount BBEG? Why not give Bell's Hells the kind of story that encourages them to be little NPC-coded freaks pushing each other's big red buttons just to see what happens? Why not give Marquet a party that calls it home?

The answer is because we got this instead, and I'm kinda sad about it. If BH gets animated, that show is a lost cause if some fundamental changes aren't made.

[virginburial]

Paradiso Chapter One: DECAMERON

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ Warning: not a ton of smut, just tension! steve being a smug asshole n all. there's slight mentions of self unalivings that did not actually take place within the reality of this story. there's also a lot of swearing and adult topics being shared. I haven't written y/n fics in a hot second i felt so dumb writing this but i'll never know if it sticks or not unless i try!

word count: 4.5k

song: Clover Paradise by La Femme

masterlist for fic ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Within the rolling hills of Northridge, hidden behind ivory gates and golf courses, and underneath the dimmed stars that faded with the city lights; You lay on shingles, music blasting from under you and shifting your body with each thump of the bass. The sound of people chattering overwhelmed you, so you went out for a smoke on the roof, which felt like an everyday occurrence. Today was different, everything about this solar return felt different. Or at least, that’s what your boss on Eternal would tell you; each season of Eternal was one solar return, and just like the sun, you always came back. 

Eternal was just the Bachelor. Eternal was just the Real World. Eternal was cheap slapstick trashy television with no real desire to point at something and say “hey, I’ll say something no one else has, ever.” It also has two Emmys, all of them accredited to the showrunner, your boss, and nothing to you. You could produce circles around narcissistic contestants and hedonistic darlings that sleep around, hell, even one of your coworkers got caught for sleeping with one of the contestants. He got fired. 

And then his roommate followed suit. 

And then you.

Because you were bored. Eternal bored you. 

There was nothing Eternal could’ve done to make you stay anyways; no amount of baby daddy’s and cheating reveals made you want to stick around anymore. So at the wrapped party, instead of saying your goodbyes, you go to the roof to smoke. Classic y/n. 

“Hey! Dumbass!” you hear a voice from below, eyes nearly rolling from the sound of Steve’s voice. You were surprised that he was even allowed back into the Eternal mansion; especially with all the contestants still hanging around. You sit up and peer over the lining of the roof, your eyes meeting with Steve’s leather brown eyes, his smile getting softer and softer as he waved to you. 

You scoff. “Back for your sloppy seconds?”

“How did you know?” Steve projected back, smirking. Your eyes fall on Jonathan, his roommate and the PA for Eternal, who also decided to walk off set earlier before the engagement ceremony. The truth was, you knew Steve and Jonathan way before working on Eternal; in fact, you all moved out of Hawkins and to LA together just to work on this show right after graduation. Five years of working on Eternal went down the drain because Steve can’t keep his dick in his pants. “Come down here!” Steve beamed. “I have a surprise.”

“Is it you sleeping with another contestant?” you bark back. 

“God I wish.” Steve hummed, earning a slap from Johnathan. Steve flinched and glanced back at you, hoping that a surprise was enough to get you down. “Cmon, y/n. Please? We heard about what happened.” Steve expressed. That was enough to pique your interest, considering how messy production gossip was. Everyone on the set of Eternal knew that you and Steve were a package deal; one of the best producers in reality tv, if they gave awards out for it, you’d have just as many awards as Madonna. It was easy to toy around with other people’s emotions for the sake of good TV. Steve knew that pretty well, in fact, he was going to win the bet that you and the other producers always engage in every season. That was, until he got fired, and all his contestants went to another producer, who ended up winning. 

You climb down the roof, your hands grappling with the ledge of the shingles and slowly climbing down and jumping just a few feet to the balcony; though, you felt a sharp sting in your ankles. Your face, cascaded with the outside lights, stared annoyingly at Steve and almost ignored Johnathan entirely. You saunter around the empty part of the balcony, seeing the party just yards away from you. “What have they been saying?” 

“Oh nothing.” Steve shrugged. “Just that you quit because Fiona was busting your balls, and since we’re best friends, and I got fired, you left.” pretty straightforward, and true. You had just about enough of the showrunner’s bullshit and Steve was your rock. “But they’re also saying you slept with the light director-” Steve chimed. 

You gagged. “Roddy? Yeah-fucking-right.” you spat. “So what are you doing here? It’s not like you’re coming here to collect your prize for the bet.” You hummed.

The bet was simple; you have a group of contestants, each one of them wanting to end up with this season's darling, whoever’s girl actually wins the darling's heart, wins the bet. Last year, you won, and the year before, Steve won. Steve shook his head. “Fuck the bet, I have something better for us to gamble on.” Then he pats Jonathan's back. Poor jonathan. He was never that into the show and never rose to the ranks you and Steve did. So when Steve got fired, he didn’t mind leaving either. 

Where Steve was a bit brash, and you were…well, you. Jonathan always stayed Johnathan. Quiet, shy, but always on the verge of something; just nobody could guess what. Your eyes darted to Jonathan, who gulped nervously. “y/n…has anyone ever told you that you’re really intimidating?” Jonathan mumbled. 

“Seriously, Harrington?” you glanced back at Steve. 

Steve gets frustrated, reaching into Johnathan’s jacket and pulling out a thick stack of papers; bound together by staples and twine. He tosses it over to you, and having you catch it without it hitting your face. It took a second for you to realize that this was a script. How did Steve get his hands on one of these? He couldn’t have written it, motherfucker can barely spell restaurant. Your fingers grazed over the title page, and flipped through its sturdy pages, your eyes followed each word as your stomach fluttered with opportunity. The simple act of skimming through the script made you forget about the day you were having, but you had to remain calm about it, because the truth was that you had no idea what this was or what it could be about. All you could remember after flipping the pages back to the title page were the names; Imogen, Mac, Jesse. Imogen, Mac, Jesse. Imogen, Mac, Jesse. 

You stared back up at the boys, who were looking at you with eager eyes. Almost hoping you’d catch on to the plot or anything regarding the project they wanted to unload onto you; or include you in. The jury was still out on their motivations. “What’s this?” you questioned. 

“A script.” Steve hummed. 

“No shit, but what is it, really?” 

Steve sighs. “Okay…it's a movie-I know what you’re going to say, we have no experience making films, but have you ever considered that maybe us getting fired could lead to us doing other things out here?” Steve chirped. “Cus if anything’s for certain, I’m not moving back to Hawkins.” he expressed. You listen, of course you did, if your best friend was eager about something then it must be important. You knew he didn’t want to move back to work for his dad’s company, anything but that. 

The idea of making a movie intrigued you, because that’s why you came out here, you shot for television because it was easier, but really? Why come to Los Angeles if it wasn’t for the art of filmmaking? It’s what you wanted, even if you were used to producing trash television. You admired Steve’s ambition, always have, so you crossed your arms and expected more out of him besides some low level explanation of a pipe dream. “Okay, what’s the movie about?”

Steve bit his lip. “It’s these two porn producers that let an actor stay with them-”

You scoffed, leading into a laugh. “Alright, so you wanna film a porno.” 

“No, no. Listen to me. It’s not a porno…not exactly.” you tilt your head to the side. “Imogen and Jesse are married, and they produce pornos together, and their marriage sucks. They’re always fighting about when they should have a kid or something. Jesse is filming something avant garde and meets Mac, who needs a place to stay. Mac moves in. Chaos ensues. Next thing you know; Imogen is fucking Mac and Mac is fucking Jesse and Jesse is fucking Imogen but its all wrapped up into a pretty bow, until it isn't. Someone gets hurt.” Steve nonchalantly explains. “Someone always gets hurt. One person can’t express love the way they want and fall deeper in love with someone else, another realizes they shouldn’t be with someone, someone's way in over their head.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “Okay…okay.” you stop him from continuing. “So Eyes Wide Shut meets Cruel Intentions-” “-no, it’s its own thing!” Steve explains. “It’s the obscure movie that you find close to the adult section at Blockbuster; but is it really there? If it’s next to the horror section?” Steve raises an eyebrow. “It’s a movie with shots that pay off in the end and filmed on a vintage film camera. It’s the movie that, if enough eyes are on it, could get awards-”

“-Great, I’m glad you learned what Oscar bait is.” you laughed softly. “All I’m hearing is porn porn porn sex sex sex. What’s the point of this movie?” you challenged. “Is it just what we do at Eternal?” you questioned. “Because I don’t see the point if it’s just reality tv on the big screen.” a sigh left you. “And between the three of us, I don’t see the point of even being in LA anymore. I mean, rent is through the roof. Fuckin-I had no job lined up after Eternal and with all of this fucking bullshit flying around about me quitting over you is gonna get me blacklisted off some sets. I’m ready to hang it up.” 

“No.” Jonathan finally spoke up. 

Your eyes flew to him, almost appalled he even spoke in the first place. “No?”

“No.” he repeated, stepping forward between you and Steve. “Maybe this movie isn’t the one that wins us some big award. Maybe it’ll be your average run of the mill indie flick with a small cult following. But it's the kind of movie you watch on a date, and the entire time you’re watching it, you hope your date sticks their hands down your pants. It makes your skin hot. It’s the kind of movie where the woman takes the lead. It’s buying lingerie for no one but yourself. It’s the feeling you get when you’re alone at the bar, and some handsome stranger buys you a drink and you look at him and you hope it goes somewhere. It’s hiking up to the Hollywood sign at night with a case of beer and a quilt with a girl you like. It’s carnal, it’s liberating, It’s taboo. It’s…it’s fucking french!” 

“Yeah! Fuck it, it’s French.” Steve chimes in as Jonathan continues. “Picture a California girl. Sun-Glossed, bikini-clad, her long blonde hair whipping in the wind that cuts down from the rocks along the Malibu coast. She turns, from the towel on which she kneels, salt and sand still clinging to her skin, and looks over her shoulder at you. Her gleaming eyes say: Welcome to paradise. They say we’re free here. It’s undoubtedly, shamelessly, beautifully Los Angeles. Straight out of the Decameron! An erotic thriller between a desperate porn producer and his bored housewife, and how their life gets flipped upside down by some vagrant from Van Nuys who fucks! He fucks them all but who really wears the pants? Who’s in control? Don’t you want to evoke that feeling without putting real people at risk for once?” Jonathan vocalizes. “Don’t you want to be free?”  

You stop at your tracks, your tongue going dry at the idea of it; fair, sexy, nasty. Maybe not everything needs to be so gray, maybe things can be black and white. Your heart beats out of your chest from Jonathan’s vigorous explanation. Steve’s eyes fall to your lips, his eyes scanning your expression for your next move; you weren’t sure you had one. He knew that. Steve tugs at his bottom lip. “What’s your craziest fantasy, y/n?”

Your what?

Your stomach rumbles with anxiety, you hoped that question had a point, and you hoped that whatever that point was, it’d pay off. Yet, the mere idea of Steve Harrington knowing what made you tick made you nervous. Your skin flushed a deep crimson as your mouth slowly opened to speak, but nothing came out. A smirk appeared on Steve’s face. “Cmon, first thing that comes to your mind.” he presses slightly. 

“I…I’m dressed up as whatever someone wants me to be.” you keep it short, and sweet. 

“I knew you like being told what to do.” Steve snickers, he turns to Jonathan. “Add that to the script.”

You roll your eyes and huff, your eyes shifting over to Jonathan. “Who wrote it?”

“Nancy.”

You scoff, then find yourself laughing a little louder than expected; a little longer than expected, and seeing Johnathan’s face fall from your revelation made it all the better. “Nancy? Your girlfriend, Nancy? The one that was a huge prude in high school and followed you here just to end up teaching at some school? That Nancy?” your arms fold themselves in front of you. “What does she know about sex?” well, you haven't had sex in over a year, too worried about your job. Maybe she does know a thing or two more than you. 

Steve shakes his head. “Hey, believe it or not, it’s actually pretty good. Give the priss a chance. Give Jonathan a chance. Hell, give me a chance, y/n-” “-and what exactly do you want me to do if we decide to move forward with it? Huh?” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Steve leans against the stone railing of the balcony. “You and I are gonna produce it, I’ll even give you the executive producer title if it makes you jump on board. Nancy wrote it, and Jonathan wants to direct, film, and edit it.” oh how confident he is that you’ll say yes, even with the big, fancy title of executive producer. “Also, Robin from the sound department is willing to run sound and lights as long as word doesn’t get to Fiona that she’s helping us out with our film during Eternal’s off season. All we need are actors. Some coquette-ish bombshell to play Imogen, and two guys who are down to do anything to play Mac and Jesse. Shouldn’t be too hard.” Steve said with a relaxed tone. “Besides, you can produce circles around people, remember last season of Eternal? Where you had to literally talk someone down from a ledge? Now here I am getting you off the roof.” 

“I just went up there to get away from the party and smoke.” you jabbed. 

“So you go on top of it? Noted.” Steve jeers. “Like I said, it shouldn't be too hard.”

Shouldn’t be too hard? God she hated how confident he could be at times. “Why do you want to make this movie?” you asked.

Steve shrugged. “I want an Oscar.” his head turned to the side, looking out to the city behind him, yet the answer did not satisfy you. You knew it was all jokes. Steve Harrington and you were not going to win an Oscar over a script Nancy Wheeler wrote, directed by Jonathan Byers.  “No.” you hummed. “Look me in my eyes. Why do you want to make this movie?” we could be making anything else; maybe even a show to compete with Eternal. But no, he wants to make a movie about Nancy’s wet dreams. 

Steve’s eyes met yours. “I…don’t want to pay rent anymore.” he answered honestly. You could tell in his tone that he was telling the truth. He was desperate to not go back to Hawkins, and deep down, you knew why. So, reluctantly, you looked down at the script in your hands, which had to be around a hundred or so pages; more than that rather than less, and sighed. “Let me read it, and I’ll get back to you.”

Steve clapped his hands once and smiled. “See? Read it tonight. Pour yourself some wine and read it, you won’t regret it. y/n.” 

Yeah yeah yeah, sure. 

“What’s it called? The film?” 

And Steve flashes the same fucking smirk he’s been sporting his whole life. It melts you to your core, he’s too charming for his own good. It’s why Jonathan’s a good roommate for him; they balance each other out so well. Steve stares over at Jonathan as he motions him to tell you. 

“Paradiso.”

Later that night, early into the morning, you drove home and parked on the side of the street, hoping some asshole won't side sweep your car this time. Your keys fall into a ceramic bowl as your eyes wander over to your roommate crashing out on the couch, mouth open and snoring loudly. You didn’t even bother to turn the tv off, which was conveniently on some episode of Seinfeld. Life kind of felt that way, like a fucked up sitcom. You hated that you couldn’t lounge on the couch with a glass of wine like Steve suggested. So you slightly stomped over to your room and closed the door behind you. 

You kicked off your shoes, and didn’t bother to take off your jeans but took off your bra, because you had to pick a struggle. You tossed the script over to the bed, but your eyes couldn’t stop staring at it. It had to be something great if it got both Steve and Jonathan excited, especially since Steve renders the Fast and Furious movies as masterpieces, and Jonathan loves anything directed by David Lynch. Two sides of the same unbearable coin, you were always a fan of Coppola; Sofia, not Francis Ford. 

You flicked on the light by your desk and grabbed the script, flipping to a random page as your eyes scanned the words. Where did Nancy learn how to write a screenplay? It’s not like her to know more about a script or screenwriting than you do. But maybe that’s where you were mistaken, because once your eyes hit the dialogue, you knew you had a hit. 

You knew you had a hit. 

And everything Steve was saying was starting to make sense. Not total sense, but just enough for you to be grabbing your blackberry and giving him a quick call. It had to be one am, but you knew Steve was still awake, it’s not like him to be asleep so early. Your fingers hit the number pads and your thumb hovered over the call button, and after a few short rings, Steve’s cherry laced voice could be heard on the other line; clearly in his car.

“Hey.” 

“Hey, what the fuck.”

“Hey what the fuck what?” he chuckled. 

You flipped a few pages, knowing that Steve could hear you on the other line as you bit your lip and started reading. “Imogen: I hate that you can do this to me so easily, it’s almost like you got a kill switch for me.” 

“Go on?”

“Mac: you make it too easy, Gene. all I do is flatter you. You don’t love me anymore than you love yourself. So instead of hating me, why don’t you show me how much you love yourself.” then you shut the script. “And then, she masterbates? And drags his hand over and he does nothing until she begs?!” 

“Genius, right?”

“Corny! It’s corny!” 

“So corny it’s genius.”

“Look I’m not saying it’s bad, this could very much turn into something. But I’ll help Nancy write better dialogue or something ‘cus this-?”

“-This what? This isn’t sexy enough for you?”

“Wouldn’t it be hotter if he forced her?”

“Consensually? Yeah, but actually, that wouldn’t make it hotter at all; because then the dialogue of her loving herself wouldn’t make sense. It’s a whole arc for her. It’s her having control over when and how she cums and instead of taking that control, she eagerly gives it to him. That’s the thing. That’s the entire thing.”

“Yeah but does that make anyone’s panties wet?”

“Maybe not all at once…why?” 

“Because mine aren’t. Look, I flipped to a random page and-”

“-and that’s where you messed up-”

“-would you stop interrupting me?” you snapped. 

“All I’m saying is, Paradiso is not a movie where you cum over and over and over again. It’s quality over quantity. What’s more enjoyable? One giant orgasm or 5 tiny ones?”

“Would it be selfish of me to say five tiny ones?”

“Well now you’re just being bratty.”

“Steve, I think we should do this movie. But not because I believe in it, but because I need money.”

“You and everyone else y/n.” Steve scoffed. “You don’t have to believe in it. But please just help me and Jonathan out? Especially with what happened with-”

“-Mhm?”

“...nothing.”

“What happened with who?”

“Me and one of the contestants.”

“Mhm…see, I already know you’re not ashamed of that because this isn’t even your first time fucking someone from Eternal. So spill.”

“...Nancy and Jonathan got into a huge fight a couple of weeks ago, Jonathan said he’d do anything to make it up to her, she gave him this script, and yeah.”

“You don't even believe in this either, Steve!” 

“Fake it till you make it.”

“We could make anything else, literally anything else! I could do Fiona’s job with my eyes closed! We could be showrunners, pitch a few ideas to the network and get our own slice of the Eternal pie. Instead we’re doing softcore porn-”

“Well, in case you forgot, sex sells! It’s why Eternal is such a gold mine!” Steve barks. “You think people only tune in for the faux pa drama you and I create amongst the contestants and the darlings? No! They watch because some hunky rich bastard is gonna be in a speedo for an episode for two while 20 ladies in bikinis all flaunt to him like a pack of vultures. That’s why it does well! And we know how to curate a social orgy because of Eternal, I kind of see this as a downgrade if anything.”

“...you’re really desperate to not go back home.”

“I wouldn’t be asking if it didn’t mean something.”

“...okay, okay. Fine.”

“Fine?”

“I’ll settle for executive producer.”

“You’ll...settle?” 

“Take it or leave it, Steve.” 

“Okay! Okay, this is good.” you could hear him smiling through the phone, almost radiating back to you. “Thanks y/n. I just knew we make a good team because of Eternal. There’s so much we can do with this now that we have more creative freedom, y’know?” 

You knew. “Yeah…yeah. We need to hold auditions. Because the last thing I want is to see Nancy and Jonathan try their hands at being Imogen and Jesse.” you gag slightly.

“Please, Jonathan is too camera shy. Remember when he was almost caught on camera last season of Eternal? The season with-”

“-That guy who owned his own vineyard? And kept trying to sell wine on the show? Yeah, Jonathan jumped in the pool to avoid getting in the frame. Even though he totally could, we weren't even filming.” you laugh to yourself. Then you sigh. “...I'm gonna miss doing the show.”

Steve stays quiet for a moment, then responds. “At least you left knowing that ratings are gonna plummet next season ‘cus you won’t be around. It’ll all be Fiona's fault.”

“Seriously? Fuck her, I caught her with a gentleman caller last season and it was Vineyard guy! She was fucking last season’s darling! And she wants to fire you for being with a girl who got voted off anyways?” 

“I’m over it.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“I’ll get in contact with robin about casting, maybe some disgruntled contestant wants to join us. She won’t be legally obligated to stay loyal to Eternal if she gets voted off of anything.”

“Robin or a contestant?”

“Does it matter? Robin hates working there too. Though, I totally mean a contestant.”

“Mhm…okay. Just don’t cast the girl you were hooking up with. It’s a conflict of interest. We’ll find our cast. But maybe not tonight.”

“Fair…hey! Before you hang up, I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“The question I asked you, about your biggest fantasy…” Steve drifts off slightly. “Were you telling the truth?” he asked.

“Yes and no. would never give that precious info away to Jonathan Byers.”

“Cmon, now you have to tell me.”

“Mhm…why would I do that?”

“For the cause.”

“What cause? The so-called erotic thriller we’re filming?”

“No, the reality tv show.” Steve sarcastically hummed. “Yes, the movie.”

“Tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.”

Steve hesitates. “I…” 

“Exactly, that’s what I thought-”

“-No no! I’ll tell you.” he sighs. “I…I’ve always wanted to wrap a belt around a girl's thighs, like really tight, kinda just hog-tie her, you know? Then spank her until she’s begging me to fuck her, but I’m a little conniving bastard so I don’t right away. Just rub and finger her until she’s a drooling, mumbling mess. Then fuck her until she goes limp from cumming so much.”

Oh fuck. Your mouth gets dry. You weren’t expecting him to actually say anything, in fact, you were expecting him to joke around or even lie like you did; a white lie is still a lie. Instead, he decided to be transparent, which sent you over the edge both with the tension and how awkward it is to know about Steve Harrington’s fantasy. And how silly yours was in contrast. 

“Earth to y/n.”

“Yeah yeah, that’s one hell of a thought process. You should add that to the script instead of whatever mine is-”

“-you’re embarrassed by yours?”

“Well I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t have to.” Steve hums. 

“Fine, it’s…it’s dressing up as an angel and someone dressing up as a priest.”

The other line goes quiet. 

You continue on anyway. “And he worships me but also…spanks me with a bible-”

“HOLY SHIT.” Steve starts cackling, between heavy breaths and laughter, you try to explain yourself, but you too found it silly. “Hey! Some of us think priests can be hot-” “-you’re lying! You have to be lying-i know just about half of Hawkins will hate you if they find out you have a priest kink!” Steve giggles. 

“You’re one to talk, Dexter! Wanting to tie girls up ‘n shit-”

“-someone has a boatload of religious trauma.” he finally calms down, however, he continues to laugh slightly. “Is there something less disrespectful that you like?”

“...I can do a James Bond/James Bond Girl thing.”

“Okay, at least we’re getting somewhere.”

“Yeah, at least. I’m gonna head to bed. Wake me up when Robin’s figured out casting?”

“Sure, have a nice night, Angel-”

“-Oh shut the fuck-”

Call Ended!

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

[sup38008]

Guys, do you think Adam and the other 2 (maybe 3 with Lucifer) archangels would be besties post cannon?

Like Adam and Michael are already like a married couple. So he’s already got one down.

Personally I think Adam’s first meeting with Raphael and Gabe would be rocky for obvious reasons, but then they become great friends. To the point even Michael is jealous of them.

And their friendship only actually happens because Adam is like the only being that treats them normally. Like their actual people(archangels) instead of eldrich entity’s that should be feared.

And no one has ever done that for them. Not even their fellow angel siblings. They are the highest and most dangerous weapon heaven has. And with that, the power, responsibility, and burdens of the job has left them above everything else. So there’s no room for actual genuine friendship.

Like even with Gabriel, the winchesters were kinda “friends” with him. But not the same way Adam and him could be. Like at their core, TFW feared Gabriel in a sense. I mean he is an archangel, they would be fools if they didn’t.

They knew he could kill them anytime he wished. He has repeatedly showed them his powers already. (Like the repeating Tuesday). So yeah, they weren’t really “friends”, so to say. Because at the end of the day, they wouldn’t trust him as far as they could throw him. Which isn’t much. If at all. And trust is a needed basic component in any kind of relationship.

And we don’t even have to start with Raphael, that mf ain’t got no friends, that’s for sure😭🤞.

And now we get to Adam, bro has lived with the archangel MICHAEL for like 1,000 years or 50,000. Pick one. He is so used to the archangel bullshit, it’s not even funny. 😞 And he’s like idk, the second or something oldest human, so bro is just chilling with anything after being with MICHAEL; IN A CAGE. For years.

So he’s used to super mega powerful being that doesn’t have human limitations.

So to him, Gabe and Raphael are just his boyfriends brothers. And just that.

He treats them like normal people, talk to em like normal people, and just acts like nothing bothers him. Like they don’t scare him. (They don’t, Michael’s protective ass ain’t letting nobody touch his human 💀)

So of course these lonely ass, sad ass archangels are like, “hmm, interesting. I now see what Michael saw in you”, and are like, “lemme give this a chance, he genuinely ain’t scared of me”. Cuz for once, someone isn’t.

They’re being treated normally, like normal people with their own issues and troubles. And this is exactly what they need after the whole, god just using them like replaceable toys in his story. THAT DOESN’T EVEN REVOLVE AROUND THEM, HIS FREAKING CHILDREN.

So yeah, a sense of normalcy is needed. And Adam is happy to provide it. Bro is literally the kindest person on earth, bro’s been dealing with Michaels troubled, protective, first nepo baby, and just-say-the-word-and-I’ll-eradicate-the-entire-universe-if-it-so- -much-as-bothers-you ass. To have the patience for that, bro has my respect ✊.

Also they would get along just fine too. Great even.

Adam has this side of quiet, melancholy, wise, and understanding to him, that developed in the cage. And this pair well with Raphael’s character, so they chilling having a cup of tea and biscuits while reading medical books on a sunny afternoon; basking in the company and just peace and quiet.

Adam also has this unhinged side that also developed in the cage, cuz Yk. Humans aren’t meant to live this long, so he’s just here and doesn’t give a flying fuck on a rolling donut anymore. Pairs well with Gabriel’s trickster ass self.

So they definitely ganging up on TFW, and pulling the craziest, meanest, and funniest pranks on them knows to man and; archangel apparently. 😩

This is also fueled by Adam’s dislike for the Winchesters. Cuz Yk, they left him in the cage. Some family they are. 🤷‍♀️ All in all, they become an unstoppable duo.

Anyways, what do you guys think? Thoughts and comments are welcomed in this blog. Write your hearts out, it will be appreciated! Let me know if y’all want to hear my perspective on this with Lucifer added. I think I have been rambling enough for today.

Buh-bye 👋

[cosyvelvetorchid]

@bucktommyfluffebruary Day 9: Moving in together.

A prompt I was given last year titled ‘Orchids’.

*****

Rated G | 914 words

The day had finally arrived. After weeks of slowly packing up his things in between his shifts, Buck was finally moving in with Tommy.

There wasn’t really all that much to move in on the day. Buck had been taking a couple of boxes of stuff over to Tommys every time he stayed over, so all that was left was the the remainder of his kitchen equipment, toiletries and the washer and dryer which were far newer than Tommys who had agreed to donate his own machines to make room for Bucks.

In the two weeks of preparation Tommy himself had taken the opportunity to clear out some of his possessions and get rid of some junk. Mostly books he’d long since read and random tools and car parts.

Buck flopped down on the sofa next to Tommy with a grunt. Tommy wrapped his arm around his neck pulling Bucks temple to his lips for a kiss.

“You okay, baby?” He asked. Buck slid his hands around Tommy waist.

“Tired. But happy.” He hummed into Tommys chest. Tommy replied with a kiss to the top of his head.

“Not regretting moving in?” He teased.

Buck placed a hand on Tommys chest for leverage to push himself up to meet Tommys eyes. “Not in a million years.” He grinned.

“Good.” Tommy leaned in for a soft kiss to his lips. Buck settled back down onto Tommys chest. After a few moments he noticed a large black book on the coffee table.

“What’s that?” He asked through a yawn.

“Oh, I wanted to show you.” Tommy said excitedly leaning forward to grab it. “I found it when I was clearing out stuff for your impending arrival.” He placed it on his lap and Buck sat up a little so look. “It’s a photo album that belonged to my grandmother.”

He opened it up and slowly flipped the pages. She really was quite beautiful when she was younger and Buck could see the family resemblance in the eyes and the signature smile lines.

“How old were you when she died?”

“Uh, 20.”

“Tell me about her.” Buck said resting his head on Tommy shoulder.

“She was so much fun. Eccentric at times. A little impulsive. You remind me of her sometimes, ya know.”

“Yeah?” The thought made Buck feel warm inside.

“Yeah. God, she would have loved you. She loved shenanigans and she definitely wouldn’t have had a hard time roping you in on them.” He laughed fondly. “She was always smiling and happy. I can’t ever remember her being mad at anyone or any thing.” He flipped the page to a slightly browning and dog eared photograph of her standing next to a table, on top of which was a tall orchid with a “1st prize” rosette stuck to it.

“That was her favourite hobby—growing orchids. She won so many competitions at flower shows. She probably spent more money than she won as prizes but she loved it so much.”

“I wish I could have met her.” Buck said softly.

“Me too.”

*****

A week later and Buck was entirely unpacked in his new home. He came off a 48 hour shift a few hours before Tommys 24 ended. He’d tried to stay awake for him coming home but minutes after he’d sat on their sofa his slid down and fell asleep.

Tommy arrived home and kicked off his shoes and dropped his bag by the door. “Hey baby.” He called out. “Baby?” He repeated when he got no response. He walked along the hall and peered into the living room and his heart melted at the sight.

Buck, with his hands tucked in underneath his chin, lay soundly asleep sprawled along the sofa. Tommy quietly walked in the room and slowly pulled the crocheted blanket from the back of the sofa and gently draped it over him. He placed a delicate kiss onto his head and left the room for the kitchen.

As he entered the room he stopped dead in his tracks. On the centre of the kitchen island was a white ceramic plant pot with a beautiful bright blue orchid planted inside. He felt a rush of warmth fill every crevice in his body at the thoughtfulness of his boyfriend.

There was a time in his life not too far in the past when he didn’t think he’d ever find someone special, let alone someone with as thoughtful and attentive as Evan. He smiled as a tear escaped his eye and snaked its way down his cheek.

He walked over and tentatively ran his finger along one of the petals.

“Do you like it?” A groggy voice came from behind him. He turned his head to see Buck, eyes slightly scrunched as he adjusted to the light and hair disheveled. He fell in love with him just a little bit more at the sight.

He walked straight over to him, one hand grabbed around Bucks waist and the other the back of his neck and pulled him in for a firm kiss. Buck hummed in response and Tommys heart flipped in his chest.

“I love you.” He whispered releasing the kiss and resting their foreheads together.

Buck smiled happily “I love you, too.” He said. “And I hope your grandma taught you some shit because I have no idea how to keep this bad boy alive.” Tommy’s head leant back as he let out a loud laugh.

“I’m sure we can figure it out.”

[simplegeneral]

Dichotomy of Burn and Sunny

Welcome to another installment of my hopeless addiction to rewriting Burn!

So now I came to wonder a bit about, what is the great conflict in book 5? What are Burn’s reasoning? And why Sunny opposes them?

Of course, the reasons are quite simple. Burn’s “urrr durrrrrrrr mah war! Me murder you!” against Sunny’s “b-but mah prophecy, fake or not, peace!”

But that imo is simply too weak, too shallow. And while sure, Burn could be an intimidating presence while being a shallow character, I think Scarlet had filled that role most perfectly (reason why I am not obsessed with rewriting her), her presence at book 1 was great, so what does that leave Burn with, a second shallow villain? Its not that uncommon to wof, unfortunately.

So in resume of my long AUs, Burn’s intent was not to murder Sunny or the DoD, but hold them captives, have them chose her, by force and fear, or by pragmatism, then free them to whatever fate they wish.

While persecuting them through this theoretical arc 1, at book 5, Burn and Sunny are going to meet after her capture by Addax, and they gonna have their conflict. Even after Burn’s victory over her sisters, both of them will continue to clash for the times to come, through their main ideological differences, which is...

“Burn vs. Sunny: How do we achieve peace?”

Both their reasoning are simple.

Sunny believes peace can only be achieved through tolerance and understanding, she, a young and idealistic mind, believes that showing all the tribes that they are not so different after all is fundamental to ending wars, that once everyone believes they have equal rights to resources, the main geopolitical tensions of Pyrrhia shall cease to exist. She intends to begin her project through the opening of the Jade Academy and the invitation for all queens to lower their guard and send in dragonets to learn there.

Burn, older and more pragmatic, believes that peace can only be achieved by force. She understands that dragons may never tolerate each other, and she certainly isn’t going to be the one trying to make it happen. She knows that through Pyrrhian history, peace was only achieved through an overwhelming display of strength, one she is particularly skilled at. Through her alliance with Queens Moorhen and Ruby, she intends to establish a new order that will guarantee peace for the time to come, by the ever threatening chance of violence to escalate.

Both their reasoning, however, have an obvious main flaw.

Sunny’s idealism blinds her sight of reality. The impulsive and emotional dragonet believes they can do it, through calm and empathy to make the dragonets to finally come to a peaceful and enlightening understanding of each other.

But reality is quite often a most disappointing thing. Even the dragonets she brought to the academy were scarred by the war, which the most shocking case being of Sora and Icicle. Both were split from each other after the initial conflicts, but Sora kept obsessed with murdering the IceWing princess, as revenge for the death of her sister Crane.

Their conflict escalated when Sora detonated a dragonflame cactus at the history cave, wounding several students, proceeding to flee with Umber in its aftermath, with Clay being the most affected by the actions of his sister, even after trying everything he could to deescalate the situation.

For Sunny, her lack of strength or willingness to enforce the peaceful coexistence she sought seemed to collapse the faith in her project, with the queens withdrawing their students and the academy’s funding ceasing immediately in the explosion’s aftermath. However, she would find an unlikely ally, Burn.

Burn’s ideal was far from perfect, her mentality of strength to enforce peace could only go so far, as queens could come in all shapes, sizes and mentalities, what would come after she died? Would her heir be as strong as her? As willing to enforce peace as her?

Burn merely suppressed the anger and resentment that always existed through the tribes, and her death would be the very catalyst for it to cause a chain reaction that would inevitably lead to more wars. She just delayed it.

While she had stamped out all dissidents through her queendom, the first cracks on her new order would come to be not even 6 months after her victory, in the aftermath of her victory parade, the SkyWing generals tried a coup against Queen Ruby, which soon evolved into a civil war within her ally’s borders. War had fed itself, once again.

Unknown to Burn, however, was that her grip over her lands was not as tight as she thought, with Vulture’s underground empire thriving and planning to overthrow her, by any means necessary, which came to be as several terrorist bombings happened through the queendom, in an assassination attempt to all remaining royals of her family, be Blaze, Scald, Singe or Smolder.

His access to dragonflame cactus was unknown, but presumably, Vulture had his dealings and contacts within the Sky Queendom, and managed to sneak out several explosives from the SkyWing generals that opposed any sort of alliance with Burn.

Diplomatic failures, anger and resentment across her allies ran rampant and Burn’s even stronger iron grip over the issues had led to no solution but more uprisings against her.

Conclusion of their Conflict:

While Burn and Sunny clashed through arc 1 and arc 2, the solution for both of their problems was the merge of theirs.

While peace must be enforced through Burn's strength, the only guarantee it would last was through Sunny's empathy, guiding the younger generations into a difficult path, but brighter future.

After Sunny and Burn met in 5013 AS, through a letter sent by Starflight about the Jade Academy's guide project, Burn offered her assistance through barter of materials for the academy, allowing it to survive another year and by 5014 AS, Sunny, through her hard work and unbreakable spirit, had restored Pyrrhia's faith in the academy and more and more dragonets are moving in and the expansion of the institution is on the way.

While Burn never believed in the Jade Academy's project, she was always impressed by Sunny's determination. What she didn't have in size, she more than made up by her hard work, teaching, administrating, advising and working on diplomacy through the queendoms, a job comparable only to a queen.

What she lacked in faith on Sunny, she made up by her eternal debt she held to the dragonet, after her past actions persecuting, intending to hold them captive for the time being, she supported Sunny's project, even when Pyrrhia's faith on it had hit rock bottom, even when the queens withdraw their students, Burn knew all Sunny needed was one dragon to support her, she would take care of the rest.

[talesfromawannabewriter]

@beef-brisket

”PERHAPS I HAVE BEEN A BIT…INORDINATE. I SIMPLY WISHED FOR YOU AND YOUR DAUGHTER TO SEE WHAT EXACTLY THESE PEOPLE YOU WERE SO FOND OF TRULY ARE. THESE SINNERS MAYBE SOME ARE POSSIBLE OF REDEMPTION BUT ONLY A FEW. UNFORTUNATELY THAT IS SIMPLY NOT ENOUGH TO CURTAIL THE EVER GROWING POPULATION.”

At this point he was directly addressing his granddaughter. It took everything in Charlie not to cower before the being.

Charlie: I understand…sir. I have come to grips with the fact that my people are not as innocent as I once thought them to be.

“I AM GLAD. NOW LUCIFER AS FOR YOU THERE IS STILL THE MATTER OF GUARDING YOUR PRISONERS ERR SUBJECTS.”

Lucifer: My daughter’s girlfriend she can help and I can form a royal guard.”

Vaggie was surprised he mentioned her but said nothing and kept her head down.

“I ACTUALLY HAVE A FEW IN MIND.”

With a snap an orb appeared and showed all five of them a group of imps and one hellhound

”THESE PEOPLE HERE SHALL HELP YOU WITH KEEPING THE SINNERS IN LINE. ABADDON HIMSELF PICKED THEM TO HELP SPREAD FEAR AND PAIN. THEY ARE HELLBORN AS WELL SO THEY SHOULD KNOW HOW TO KEEP THEIR OWN KIND SAFE.”

The king nodded: I understand Father they shall be part of the new guard and will never let another uprising in Hell. I swear on it.”

“I KNOW YOU DO. UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN MY SONS.”

Though he didn’t say his name Lucifer could tell he was talking also to Adam. With another flash of light the great architect of the universe was gone.

Tormentor of souls au

Darkness surrounded him like a blanket. Only he was no way comfortable or felt safe. He felt fear grip him like iron as he tried to make even a sliver sense of his situation. He could barely a muscle, if he had any muscle to pull. It felt like he had nothing to move, was this what happened to the souls he exorcised? 

Were they to end up here for eternity, slowly being drove insane with nothing but your thoughts to keep you company? Adam couldn’t even try to open his mouth to speak, well he did try, but the only words that would escape from him were from within his mind. In his mind he sighed, he was just so tired, he didn’t have any strength to fight, to argue that he shouldn’t be here. Yet what exactly was the point? He’d only tire himself further out. 

He had to admit it, he was stuck here, for all eternity. Much the same as a sinner. 

That was when he saw it a flicker of light. Not just any light, a pure white light. A light that was so familiar, one that brought him joy when it spoke to him in his booming voice.

His creator 

“GREETINGS MY SON. IT HAS BEEN SO LONG SINCE I HAVE LAST SPOKE TO YOU AND FOR THAT I APOLOGIZE”

Adam didn’t care he was just so thankful to be in his creator’s presence.

“MY SON I KNOW THAT YOU HAVE LIVED A LIFE OF HARDSHIP AND THAT IT DID NOT STOP EVEN WHEN YOU PERISHED.” 

He tried to not flinch at that. Thinking about his first life brought too many unpleasant memories.

“THAT IS WHY IT BRINGS ME PAIN TO ASK YOU OF THIS, BUT I NEED YOUR ASSISTANCE ONCE MORE. I KNOW OF WHAT YOU HAVE DONE THESE PAST FEW CENTURIES, AND I HAVE TO SAY THAT IT WAS NOT THE SOLUTION”

Adam could not believe what he was hearing. His own creator believed that they, the murderers and rapists, deserved to be redeemed!?

“HELL IS MEANT TO BE A PUNISHMENT, ETERNAL TORMENT OF THE SINS LUCIFER CORRUPTED WITH HIS WAY OF FREE WILL. HOWEVER MANY OF THEM DON’T SEE IT THAT WAY. TO THEM HELL IS MERELY A PLAYGROUND WHERE RULES NO LONGER MATTER. I HAVE SEEN TRUE MONSTROUS ACTS THE WICKED HAVE BROUGHT WITH THEM FROM LIFE. THEY CARRY IT MOST OUT ON THE TRUE CITIZENS OF HELL, THE ONES THAT HAD NO SAY IN BEING THERE OR NOT.”

The hell born, Adam thought taking in the Lord’s words

“I KNOW I AM NOT THEIR CREATOR, NOR DO THEY CALL ME FATHER, BUT I HAVE HEARD THEIR PLEAS FOR HELP TO BE SAVED FROM THE ACTS OF THE WICKED, OF ALL WICKED. UNFORTUNATELY THERE IS NOTHING I CAN DO ABOUT OTHER PEOPLE BORN DOWN THERE, BUT I CAN STOP THE SINNERS FROM HURTING THEM AND THAT IS WHERE I NEED YOUR HELP”

Adam had never put much thought into the hellborn. To him they were simply there and as long as they got in his way during the exterminations they weren’t a problem. There was the princess, but he didn’t really count her. He was curious however as to what the Lord wanted him to do.

“THE SINNERS NEED PUNISHMENT, AND THE HELL BORN NEED PROTECTION. YOU CAN BE THEIR PROTECTOR BY BECOMING THE PUNISHER.”

 With a simple snap of his creator’s fingers Adam felt something shift within him, in his very essence he changed. A warm feeling engulfed him whole and then he knew no more.

((Oh shit- I love everything about this! God needs to fuck off and let our boy rest!

Sorry this took me a hot second to get to- and I hope my reply does yours justice 😝))

Charlie is in full work mode and has been since the failed extermination ended. Since finding out Sir Pentious ended up in Heaven.

For months, she had been working hard. It was so hard that she somehow missed the latest gossip going around the Pride Ring.

Sinners ending up missing, only to resurface months later completely different. Scared. Traumatized.

Many didn't think much of it. This is Hell. There's always some crazy bastard out there doing shit.

But, it was when they became too scared to even function, too scared to ever be normal again, too scared that they would rather turn an angelic blade on themselves than to live with the possibility of going through whatever it is they've gone through.

Charlie was actually getting quite concerned. Especially when she heard Angel talking about it one night at Husks bar.

Angel: I fucking tell ya, kitty. People a shit scared. I've never seen the clubs so empty!

Husk shook his head: Must be the worst of the worst, huh?

Angel scoffed, downing his drink: Nah, babe. It's something else. It ain't no sinner.

Husk: Hellborn?

Angel: Those guys are freaky. Don't get me wrong, but their not THAT freaky. I had a client who said he was taken for three months. Three. That's fucking child's play. But the shit he said happened to him... fucking skinning, to pouring acid down his throat. Fuck mam, the sick ficker even dug around I'm his muscle and tendons!

Angel shook his head: There's something going on... even Val has lowered the workload.

Husk: Pft. Fuck. That's how you know it's serious.

Angel: Damn fucking right.

Charlie stood at the top of the stairs, listening to Angel's story. She was shocked but not surprised. She wasn't sure why this person has the sinners so scared, but sury it's nothing new.

She probably should make sure Al isn't behind this. She's only heard a few tales of his exploits so she wouldn't put it past him.

-

Alastor: Hm. So you've heard the rumors, too. While I'm flattered, I don't appreciate being confronted in such a way.

Vaggie: Just- fucking answer her, Alastor.

Alastor sighed, leaning on his cane: No, it's not me. I've been too busy here! And my kills stay dead when I'm finishing them~.

Charlie wasn't sure if she liked that answer, but it was good enough.

She apologized to Alastor, ams watched him leave.

Vaggie: ...I don't know, Charlie.

Charlie: I don't know either...

Vaggie: I'm sure it's nothing. Besides, you have more important things to deal with here, hun. You shouldn't get mixed up in sinner issues.

Charlie sighed: I know. I just... surely, it's a coincidence that this starts after the failed extermination... that was my fault. Simmered died because of me- I put my friends in danger! I feel like I owe it to everyone to at least try and solve it.

Vaggie smiled and pulled her girlfriend onto a soft hug.

Vaggie: I know you feel like that, hun. But you don't owe anyone anything... besides, if it's that bad, you could just ask Lucifer. He said he was looking for something to do.

Charlie: Hm... that's... a good idea, actually! I'll get dad on the case!

-

Lucifer: Me on the what now? Charlie, why should I care about whatever is going on with those sinners? Their... you know... sinners.

Charlie: Dad, please? Our guests are sinners. We need them to be safe. So please. Look into this for me? Even just a little bit?

Lucifer sighed. He really didn't want to do this. But, seeing the hopeful, pleading look on his daughters face, eventually changed his mind.

Charlie: Oh- thank you, dad, thank you!

Lucifer smiled as Charlie pulled into a hug. But when she felt and heard his back crack, she slowly put him down.

Charlie: S-Sorry dad!

Lucifer laughed through the pain: It's okay, Charlie - nothing I can't handle! I-I better start hunting a... whatever the fuck this is!

[dans-lily]

They are complete!!!!

I finished my tit shoes!!! (or as my sister called them "the phneakers") I'm pretty happy with how they turned out, despite a few last minute alterations lol

@danielhowell @amazingphil