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She stays true to you - her focus is on you and you only. She knows how much infidelity hurts and you’re the first person to melt her heart in centuries. She will treat you like you’re the only person in the whole world to her. There is simply not enough attention or presents to give to you to show you just how precious you are to her.

Hera is very jealous - be careful with your kindness towards others, it might net you an enraged lover. You’re always quick to forgive her, because you know how badly Zeus hurt her. It doesn’t really come from a bad place, she just endured so much pain that it’s hard for her not to jump to conclusions. She’s still not entirely over what Zeus did to her so many times - she will have you swear up and down that you will still be loyal, but you understand. It’s a healing process for her and you know these wounds won’t close overnight.

Hera will try to punish those who have wronged you and only with the most careful pleading will she stop - she is an angry woman, but you can show her how revenge isn’t always the answer. When it comes to anyone inflicting harm on you however, she will simply show no mercy.

She visits you often, almost daily. You’re her refuge from the world and she rants to you a lot while you cook a meal or tend to your garden. Over time, you will know the ins and outs of Olympus and just how human the gods actually are. With her fairly dry sense of humor, it’s hard not to laugh when she tells you about the newest escapades of some deity.

She’s the type to ‘run away’ with you, giving you a new life away from your old troubles and she sees to it you’re cared for and watched over until the end of your life. Come sickness or health, she will tend to you. All under a carefully crafted disguise, of course.

Hera is an intense lover and she will mark you, but rather subtly. She gives you unsuspicious jewelry of your favorite kind, but it will clearly show who you belong to. Every piece is a work of art, almost too beautiful to wear in your everyday life.

She will mourn your inevitable death for centuries - her greatest pain is your mortality. But until then, she will give you the best possible life and cherish each and every moment with you.

Hera was beautiful. Not in the way that most women were; she was beautiful in the way that the sunset was beautiful right before a hurricane. She was an angry, scornful woman. A woman with power and grace and an unbridled rage so fierce Zeus himself recoiled in fear. 

You knew someone had upset the goddess; birds began to swarm as black waved across the molten purple sky. Their cawing echoed across the valley, and you shivered from your place on the grand balcony. You clutched your silken robe closer, eyes tilted towards the heavens. Even as a wealthy woman, you felt small and worthless to the raging gods above.

The storm was only growing angrier. You bowed your head, whispering a prayer. You hoped she would still listen to you, though you were only a mortal. You were still a friend to her. At least, you viewed yourself that way.

Ever since Hera sought you out for a reason she hadn’t disclosed, you were steadfast and loyal to her. Any time she would flee Olympus in rage at Zeus, you consoled her. At first, you feared her, but that fear quickly melted away into something you refused to dwell on.

Hera was everything you dreamt of being, and to be the one to soothe her, to comfort her like a friend, was more of an honor than you deserved. 

With a delicate wisp of wind kissing your skin, the aforementioned goddess appeared, standing tall at the edge of the balcony.

Her dark hair blew in the angry breeze, and her perfect face held a menacing look. If you were anyone else, you would have cowered, but you didn’t.

With gentle steps, you moved towards the fuming goddess. You outstretched your hand, gently caressing her angry tears away. She didn’t speak. She didn’t have to.

You furrowed your brows. “Do not waste your tears on him. The rivers you have shed are enough to drown you, Hera.”

Her eyes, set ablaze, cooled as she gazed down at you. You grasped her hand with yours. “Have you forgotten who you are? You are Hera, queen of the gods, and slave to no man, god or mortal.”

She bowed her head. “The others are fools. They refuse to listen. They call me mad. All his bastard children. Who is he to sleep with whores while I keep Olympus stable? No more. There will be no more.”

You gently led her inside, sitting her on your plush lavender sheets. “You are not obligated to maintain a role set forth and broken by your husband. You are not bound to him. You are not bound by the others. You are bound by no one but yourself.”

“I knew you would see the truth of it all,” Hera spoke, glancing at the darkness outside. Lighting and thunder shook the sky.

“You are not required to return there,” you whispered. “Let them fall to ruins without you. Let him weep over you, Hera.” Selfish. That’s what you were. A mortal persuading a god just to keep company. How queer the situation was.

Hera closed her eyes, lashes still dewey with water. When she opened them, a new fire burned. “Yes,” she mumbled, unusually soft. “You are right. Let them burn. Let it all burn.”

You met her gaze, and her elegant hands cupped your blushing cheeks. “I need nothing from them,” Hera hissed. “I need nothing from mortals. I need nothing from the earth below nor the heavens above. Once I exact my vengeance upon them, you and I will be all there is. I promise.”

Despite a tightening in your chest, you nodded breathlessly. “I would hope for nothing less.”

Hera, an inextinguishable fire now burning in her heart, rushed forward to claim your lips. They were soft and kind and everything Hera could never be. Was this the pleasure of mortals? 

She pushed you down against the sheets, craving more. You didn’t fight it. Why would you? It was everything you’d ever wanted. 

Humans are such fleeting, puny things, but there is something about them no god can compare to, Hera mused. 

She grew angry at the thought. Zeus’s infidelity became almost reasonable to her. How selfish he was to command her and yet hoard these pleasures for himself. 

You don’t remember falling asleep, but as you woke up you felt soft fingers tracing along your scalp, another gentle hand holding you close to someone tightly. You shuffled in closer to them but kept your eyes shut, hearing them exhale a laugh. 

“Still feeling tired, my darling?” Lanfear muttered gently against your head, making you smile where your head rested against her shoulder. You nodded your head against her shoulder once you were comfortable, feeling her hold you tighter. 

If you could, you wouldn’t ever leave her embrace, she was always so warm and gentle, not like the Forsaken you’d been told about so often. Moiraine had warned you she wasn’t to be trusted, but you’d seen a completely different side to her, one you couldn’t have imagined. When those Whitecloaks stormed Falme and Lanfear saw you in danger, being chased by some of those wretched men, she had to step in. You were too busy watching them to notice the tall, raven-haired woman not too far ahead of you. You stumbled into her, but she caught you with ease. You hid your face against her shoulder as you heard the men screaming, not daring to turn and look at them, or whatever this woman was doing to them. She held you close without thinking.

“Are you alright?” She asked gently, wondering how you were left alone in the midst of an attack. 

“Y-Yes… I think so. How did you-” The woman began pulling you away from the destruction and fighting and into the tower, finding a room that was secluded enough the two of you wouldn’t be found. 

“Who are you?” You asked, watching as she turned her head to face you.

“And why would you need to know that?” She’d turned her whole body to face you now, allowing you to look at her properly for the first time. She was gorgeous. Pale skin, bright blue eyes, long black hair that fell against her back. You’d never seen a woman so gorgeous.

“Hello?” She clicked her fingers in your face to get your attention, not missing the slight blush that crept up on her cheeks at the attention, nor the bashful smile she gave you.

“Sorry… I just wanted to know who saved me so I could thank them properly,” You replied, still looking at her in awe of her beauty. Her hand gently touched your cheek, stroking it with her fingers. 

“Lanfear,” She spoke quietly, as if muttering her name was dangerous. It was an unusual name, but still pretty nonetheless. You smiled at her as you told her your name. 

“A pretty name for a pretty girl,” you blushed. The screaming began to die down from outside, both of you listening intently. “Hmm… I think it’s safe to go back out.” You suggested, her hand still holding your cheek gently. 

“Maybe, I think we should stay here a little longer. Just to be safe,” She’d moved closer to you, noses almost touching. 

“I think that’s a smart idea,” You agreed, finding yourself more drawn to her by the minute.

Surprisingly, you spent most of that time finding out about each other, Lanfear asking you more questions than her answering yours. After a while you both decided to emerge, Lanfear holding your hand ‘as a way to protect you’, she’d said. Not that you didn’t want her to, her hand was soft and warm. You both stood, dotted amongst the crowd as the banner was raised across the sky in fire, the Dragon claiming himself. You watched as Lanfear smiled proudly and you couldn’t help but smile at her. She glanced over at you, smiling brighter as she tugged you closer with her hand. She pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek as her arm snuck around your waist. You could feel the blush rushing to your cheeks as you leant against her. 

Later on, when you and Moiraine found each other in Falme, you’d spent most of the time talking about Rand and what had happened. When you mentioned a dark-haired woman saving you she stilled. When you told her who’d done it, she looked exasperated. 

“She cannot be trusted! She’s a Forsaken, one of the Dark Lord’s most powerful soldiers. And you’ve been aimlessly flirting with her?!? I never took you for an idiot, but this is a stupid move from you.” Moiraine’s words stung, the harshness of her tone breaking your heart. You couldn’t see how Lanfear could be that person. 

“She isn’t like that Moiraine! She wants to see the world and explore, she wants to make this world a better place. If she is a Forsaken, then she’s the nicest I’ve ever met! And if she’s really as evil as you say she is, why did she save me from Whitecloaks? Why did she protect me and hide the pair of us away from them until it was safe?”

“There may be an ulterior motive that we’re not seeing… I don’t see what she would gain from having you in her grasp. Hardly the strongest channeller,” Moiraine kept laying down harsh criticism after harsh criticism, so much so you fled the room after a while, not wanting to listen to it anymore. You walked the streets of Falme haphazardly, the tears blurring your vision until you bumped into someone.

“Oh- I’m so sorry, I- Lanfear?” Lanfear stood before you, arms holding your shoulders gently. The second she saw your tear stained cheeks and felt the way you were shaking, she whisked you away back to her room. Her arms wrapped around you so tightly, feeling you sob into her chest made her heart shatter. She’d have to make whoever hurt you like this pay.

“Who did this to you, sweetheart?” She asked you, once again her voice light and soft, making you question how she could be a Forsaken.

“Who hurt you like this? I can’t stand to see anyone hurting you like this,” Lanfear pulled away, brushing your hair behind your ears before holding your cheeks. Her thumbs wiped at the still falling tears.

“I-It was Moiraine. She- she told me you’re a- a Forsaken. Is it true?” You looked her in the eyes and saw fear creep into them. 

“I am, darling. But I promise you, I mean you no harm. All I wanted to do was save a pretty girl from a bunch of evil men, I didn’t expect to find her so beautiful and charming.”

She smiled at you so softly, her lips leaving a featherlight kiss above each of your eyes, the soreness from crying disappearing. 

“She told me you must’ve had an ulterior motive for saving me. But it couldn’t be for my channelling because I’m not strong enough, can’t be connected to an Ajah, there’s no way I’m powerful enough to become one. I’m not that pretty, I don’t have any good or royal connections… I’m-“ She cut you off by kissing your lips gently. They were soft, featherlight yet almost dominating. She knew what she wanted from this kiss and she would have it. And you’d let her take it.

“I don’t want to hear you say anything negative about yourself like that… Ever. You’re beautiful, and from what you told me earlier, brave, kind and smart. As for channelling, well, you’ve got me. I can help you train and keep you safe. I can protect you from anyone who wishes to harm you. Even that little Aes Sedai. If you want me to?” Her eyes were expressive, showing the clear desperation she felt to keep you safe. You couldn’t deny you felt automatically safe around her, wanting to stick by her side. Especially after the way Moiraine spoke to you. You nodded, wanting her to keep you safe for as long as she could, before she kissed you once more. 

You both spent a lot of time running from Moiraine and Lan, staying in the most obscure places you could, exploring the world as much as you could at the same time. That’s what led you here, to this small cabin in the middle of the woods. It had been quiet and sweet, almost romantic without the given circumstances. As Lanfear’s fingers continued to massage your head gently, you smiled, feeling content with her in that moment. 

“When did you get back?” You asked, feeling guilty for missing her coming home. 

“I’m not sure, you were asleep. I didn’t have the heart to wake you, you looked so peaceful. And I know it’s been hard for you to rest,” Lanfear watched you snuggle up closer, moving your head to rest gently on her chest. 

“I find it hard to sleep when you’re not home… or at least when I don’t know where you are. I don’t want anyone hurting you,” You didn’t want to admit the truth to her. The fear you felt whenever you were travelling between places was inevitable, but when she was gone, your fear increased tenfold. She cupped your chin with her fingers softly, before turning you to face her. 

“Baby, it pains me far too much to be away from you. And I’ll always, always come back to you no matter what. I can’t bear to think about your little heartbroken face. Thinking about anyone even thinking about hurting you makes me want to unleash the true extent of my power upon the world,” Lanfear kissed the corner of your mouth, the softness of her lips always surprising you. You moved a hand to cup her cheek, pulling her even closer to you. Your nose almost bumped her own, much like when you were first together in Falme. 

“And that little Aes Sedai won’t be finding us for a little while,” Lanfear’s breath was hot against your face, her lips claiming your own gently, before you pulled away softly.

“What do you mean?” you asked. Part of you was slightly concerned at what she might’ve done to Moiraine and Lan, but most of you was happy to finally have time with Lanfear that wouldn’t be cut short by their sudden appearance or needing to leave so they wouldn’t appear. 

“They aren’t injured or hurt… I may have lured them into the Waygate and blasted them back to their starting point in Falme. We deserve a little time together, I haven’t been able to spend any real time with you. My precious girl,” She chuckled gently as you pulled her in for a kiss. Your lips took charge this time, moving yourself so you were on top of her, straddling her. She laughed into the kiss once more, having never seen this side of you before. 

“That means we’ll actually get to spend time together without having to worry about them?” You asked in disbelief. You couldn’t believe you had this time with her uninterrupted. 

“Well, the closest Waygate to where we are is five days by horse, even longer on foot. And the Waygate to Falme may temporarily be out of action right now thanks to a cute little spider.” Lanfear trailed kisses down your face to your neck, gently sucking the skin enough to leave a little mark. 

“Remind me to thank the Spiderling for that,” Your voice caught in your throat at Lanfear’s softness, her hands holding your waist as she moved her lips down to nibble at your exposed collarbone. 

“What about my thanks? I’m the one who led them off our trail… and blasted them through the Waygate back to Falme? Don’t I get a thank you?” She teased, pulling away from you to look in your eyes. You rolled your eyes softly before giving her a peck on the lips. 

“What made you think you weren’t going to get a thank you?” You kissed her once more, before moving down to her neck. She still had her usual clothes on, trousers and a loose shirt. As you worked your way down the skin exposed by her open shirt she sighed contentedly. 

“I love you, my darling.” Lanfear’s voice shocked you, making you pause and look her in the eyes. Her eyes began to fill with fear before you smiled back at her, leaning up to kiss her one more time. 

Your desk was covered in mountains of scrunched up paper balls, your bed suffering from the same fate, too. There was no way you could get any rest tonight anyway, so who cares what mess laid atop of your bed. 

There was barely two months left before the charity fashion event you hosted in order to raise funds for the new orphanage opening his doors in Velaris. You had greatly underestimated the level of preparation needed to arrange this kind of event. 

The first week you had announced the event, you had been motivated, you had found sources of inspiration for your designs easily. This sudden burst of inspiration had left you around Solstice, so you had put the job of making the outfits designs aside, and focused on the location and decor instead. You hadn’t lost a minute, really. Everything was almost ready for the fashion show, except these two stupid outfits.

You needed to find an idea, and quickly, because you still had to make time to sew the clothes and make some adjustments for your models before the deadline. 

You took a deep breath, in through your nose, then out through your mouth. You repeated the action a few more times before finally coming to a semblance of calmness. You were tired, so tired, but now was not the time to sleep. You could almost feel it, the sudden burst of inspiration deciding to show up. You knew it would hit you tonight, if you just kept working for a few more minutes… hours, perhaps. 

Your hand- shaking from the effort of drawing and scrapping millions of sketches tonight- reached for the mug of coffee sitting unsteadily on top of a pile of books. You lifted it up, brought it to your lips, ready to let the cold, doubtingly still consumable, coffee fill your mouth…

“Don’t.”

Your head snapped around and you groaned, your head started to spin from moving too quickly. 

Morrigan was leaning against the doorframe of your bedroom, looking as gorgeous as the day you met her. 

You had met her at Rita’s, apologizing to you when one of her friends, Feyre, had bumped into you while dancing with Morrigan and spilled her drink all over your dress by accident. Morrigan, after returning her clearly too drunk friend to her boyfriend, had apologized profusely. You had shrugged it off - because her beauty had cut off any reasonable thoughts in your head - and followed after her to the bar when she had offered you a drink. 

She had her hair done up in a ponytail, just as she has now, and when she had removed her hair tie after walking you home… You knew you were a goner. She had kissed your cheek before leaving, and to your surprise, you met her again a few days later when she showed up to your fashion boutique. 

It still felt like a dream, sometimes, to be able to call this gorgeous female your girlfriend. 

“Drop that mug of coffee right this instant,” She said, taking of her shoes and walking up to you slowly, swaying her hips like a lazy cat. 

“Sweetheart…”

“Nuhuh! Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me,” Her lips found yours and she kissed you, softly. The taste of strong alcohol still lingered on her glossy red lips.

You groaned when you felt the weight of your mug shifting as she slipped it away from you, placing it down carelessly on your desk. 

“You, my girl who abandoned me tonight, are going to at least keep me warm in bed.” 

“Mor, I still haven’t-”

“ ‘Created the design for these two outfits yet’ , I know,” She finished for you, then sighed. “You’ve been at it for weeks now. How long has it been since you last slept?” 

You opened your mouth to answer.

“Slept more than four hours in a row.” She deadpanned, crossing her arms on her chest, making them s- “Eyes up here, Y/N.”

You looked back up at her, chuckling at the unimpressed look she shoots at you. Her eyebrow raised, her lips pursued and oh so biteable… The things you’d do to her if you weren’t so tired and stressed. 

“You can go to sleep, sweetheart. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

She tapped her foot impatiently, and as you turned back around to your desk, she spun the chair, fisted the collar of your pajama and lifted you up into her arms. 

“That’s it,” She said, taking you by the hand and leading you towards your tiny bathroom. “Quick bath, then sleep. I’m too drunk to bicker with you. So listen, and stop thinking about work for tonight.” 

And so you did. 

—

You almost fell asleep on Morrigan in the bath, her long fingernails scratching your scalp deliciously as she massaged your roots with soap. She complained all the way through the bath at how unfair it was that your hair could look so amazing with such cheap products, while she spent tons and tons of money on hair product for hers to look as good as yours. 

While you were making the bed, tossing away all the mess of papers sprawled over your bedsheets, anxiety and dread caught up to you. Your smile vanished from your face when your stomach started to twist, and Morrigan noticed immediately. 

“What’s wrong?” She asked, her hand gently guiding you under the sheets. 

You laid down beside her, turning on your side so you could speak face to face. She couldn’t quite see you in the darkness, which made it easier for you to be honest with her. “Sometimes I feel like I’ll fail. I feel like I’m running out of time to host this event.” 

Morrigan brought her lips to your face, leaving a protective kiss on the crown of your head. “It’s okay if you fail,” She whispered, leaving a trail of kisses all the way down to your cheek. “Though I highly doubt you will, you’re doing so great, my girl.” 

“I don’t feel like I am doing so great.” 

“What makes you think that?” 

You paused, searching for an answer to give her. 

“You’ve already done so much,” She wrapped her arms around your shoulders, pressing your face in the crook of your neck. You breathed her in, her scent always calmed you down. “Just thinking about hosting this event is a huge thing. You have such a kind and generous heart, Y/N. Don’t let your emotions tell you otherwise. You’ve done great things already, think of all the trouble you went through, the days you spent casting your models.”

“That’s barely anything.”

“But it’s still something.” She lifted your chin up, her face was so close you could see her eyes even through the darkness of your bedroom. “I’m so proud of you. But I love you, Y/N, and I’d be damned if I let your work extinguish that spark in your eyes.” 

“I love you.” You said, your voice barely over a whisper. 

“I love you too, you sappy thing.” She giggled, adjusting her grip around you as she sank deeper into her pillow. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

Morrigan silently chuckled when she was answered only by your silence and soft snores. 

Morrigan taglist:

The Winter Solstice Ball at the Dawn Court was nothing short of breathtaking.

The grand hall shimmered with soft golden light, reflecting off tall crystal chandeliers that swayed slightly with the evening breeze filtering through the arched windows. Stars winked in the distance, barely visible beyond the open balconies, where nobles stood in hushed conversation, sipping wine from delicate glass goblets.

Perfumed air wrapped around you, a mix of citrus, honey, and exotic spices, mingling with the warmth of bodies dressed in the finest silks and velvets. The music, light and playful, twined through the room, blending seamlessly with laughter and the clinking of glasses.

You had always enjoyed these kinds of events, not necessarily for the political maneuvering or the courtly games, but for the spectacle. For the way people dressed in their best, smiled their brightest, danced as though they had no worries at all.

But tonight?

Tonight, your mind was elsewhere.

Or rather, on someone else.

Morrigan.

You had felt her before you saw her—like a whisper of golden sunlight at your back, a familiar warmth in a sea of unfamiliar faces. Even before you turned, you knew.

And when you did—

Gods, she was breathtaking.

Mor was dressed in a gown of crimson and gold, the fabric shimmering as it clung to her curves, cascading down her form like liquid fire. Gold embroidery traced delicate patterns along the bodice, swirling in intricate designs that drew the eye. Her golden hair was curled and half-pinned, loose strands framing her sharp, devastatingly beautiful face.

She looked like power and temptation and trouble all wrapped into one.

And she knew it.

She had caught your gaze from across the ballroom, a smirk playing at her lips as she dragged a slow, lazy finger along the rim of her goblet, golden eyes dark with amusement. Then, with deliberate slowness, she had winked before disappearing into the crowd.

Which was probably why you barely noticed the attention you were drawing.

Specifically, from him.

Lord Dain.

A noble from the Dawn Court, young and handsome in the effortless way of those born into power. His dark hair was neatly tied back, sharp amber eyes filled with mischief as he approached, all smooth charm and polished words.

He had been hovering near you all evening, offering wine and compliments with a practiced ease that made it clear he was used to getting what he wanted.

But he hadn’t accounted for one thing.

You weren’t interested.

Your responses remained polite but distant, your focus subtly flicking toward the crowd, always searching for her.

Lord Dain either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

And then—

He touched you.

A light brush of fingers against your wrist as he leaned in, voice dipping into something softer, more intimate. “Tell me, do all Night Court females possess such beauty, or are you a rare exception?”

You barely had time to recoil before a storm wrapped in gold descended upon you.

One moment, it was just you and Dain.

The next—

Mor was there.

A golden blur of silk and fury, stepping between you so smoothly, so effortlessly, it was as if she had materialized from thin air.

Lord Dain barely had time to blink before Mor was in his space, all lazy smirks and sharp golden eyes, amusement laced with something darker.

“Ah, Morrigan,” Dain greeted, though there was a flicker of wariness now. “What a pleasure.”

Her smile was slow, deliberate. “I’m sure.”

Dain’s gaze flicked between the two of you, curiosity evident. “You don’t mind if I steal your lovely companion for a few more moments, do you?”

And then—

“You mean my mate?”

Silence.

A stillness so absolute that it rippled through the ballroom like a shockwave.

The nearest nobles froze, conversation faltering, heads turning toward you, toward her, toward the revelation that had just shattered the air like a crack of thunder.

Because no one—not even the Night Court—had known.

Mor had not spoken it aloud before.

Had not declared it before.

Until now.

Lord Dain’s smile faltered. His amber eyes darted to you, as if seeking confirmation.

You met his gaze evenly, saying nothing.

But you felt it—the bond thrumming through your very soul, burning bright and undeniable.

And then, slowly, Mor reached for you.

Her fingers found your wrist, sliding along your skin before lacing with yours.

A touch. A claim.

A silent, unmistakable message.

Lord Dain exhaled sharply. Then, with a tight, forced smile, he inclined his head. “Congratulations to you both.”

And then he was gone, slipping into the crowd as whispers swelled in his wake.

But Mor?

Mor didn’t care.

Didn’t spare him another glance.

She turned to you instead, golden eyes blazing, lips pressed into a tight line.

You arched a brow. “Jealous, Mor?”

Her grip on your hand tightened. “No.”

You gave her a look.

Her jaw clenched. “I just didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

“Mm.” You sipped your wine, tilting your head. “So you announced to an entire Court that we’re mates just to make a point?”

Mor hesitated.

Then, she lifted her chin, unapologetic.

“You’re mine.”

And apparently, that was that.

Because for the rest of the evening, Mor did not let you out of her sight.

Or out of her grasp.

Every time you moved, she was there—a warm, steady presence at your side, her hand always touching you. If someone tried to engage you in conversation, she was answering before you could. If a noble so much as looked in your direction, she met their gaze head-on, golden and daring.

By the time the ball was winding down, you were beginning to suspect she was physically incapable of letting you go.

And, of course, Cassian had noticed.

The moment the Inner Circle gathered at the edges of the ballroom, preparing to leave, Cassian took one long look at Mor’s firm grip on your waist and snorted.

“You do know she’s not going to vanish into thin air, right?”

Mor shot him a look. “Shut up, Cassian.”

He grinned. “I mean, I knew you were possessive, but this is a whole new level.”

“I am not possessive.”

Cassian gave her an exaggerated look. “Mor, you’ve had your hand on her for three hours straight.”

Azriel, standing just behind Cassian, muttered under his breath, “Cass, leave it.”

Cassian ignored him entirely. “So, maybe let her breathe a little?”

You stifled a laugh, but Mor only tightened her hold on you, pressing a slow, lazy kiss to your temple before looking back at Cassian, golden eyes gleaming.

“She’s my mate,” she purred.

Cassian groaned, throwing his head back. “Oh, Mother above, it’s already started.”

You raised a brow. “What’s started?”

“The mate excuse,” he muttered, shaking his head. “The one where she gets away with literally anything because she pulls the she’s my mate card.”

Mor only smirked. “And what, exactly, are you going to do about it, Cassian?”

Cassian scowled.

You laughed.

And Mor?

The battlefield was chaos.

Blades clashed, magic burned through the air, and the scent of blood and death was suffocating. You barely had a second to breathe before another enemy was upon you, a brute of a male with Illyrian leathers and dead eyes—a traitor who had abandoned Rhysand’s court to fight for the enemy.

You ducked under his blade, twisting just in time to plunge your dagger into his ribs. He choked on a gasp, eyes wide with shock, before crumpling to the ground. But there was no time to think, no time to process.

Because you heard Cassian roar your name.

You barely turned before a wave of magic slammed into you.

Your world turned white with pain. It was like being hit with a battering ram, the force of the blast lifting you off your feet and sending you flying straight into a pile of shattered stone.

Something cracked. You weren’t sure if it was the rock or your ribs.

You tried to move, to push yourself up, but a sharp, agonizing pain burned through your side, knocking the breath from your lungs. Too much. Too fast.

The battlefield blurred—figures moving, shadows shifting. You thought you saw Azriel’s siphons blazing, Cassian hacking through enemies like a storm of steel and fury, and Rhysand’s power consuming a row of soldiers in a wall of endless darkness.

And then—gold.

A flash of golden hair, of sunlight cutting through the carnage.

Morrigan.

You didn’t know if you whispered her name, but you felt her magic reach for you, like a familiar touch wrapping around your skin.

And then, everything went dark.

\*/

The pain came first.

A deep, pulsing ache spread through your body, making it impossible to focus on anything else. Your mind was sluggish, struggling to piece together what had happened. The last thing you remembered was the battlefield, the blast, Mor’s golden hair—

Now, you were waking up somewhere warm.

Soft sheets. A plush mattress beneath you. The scent of something sweet—vanilla and citrus—lingering in the air. Morrigan.

“You’re awake.”

The voice was quiet, but full of relief.

Slowly, you forced your heavy eyelids open. And there she was.

Morrigan sat at your bedside, golden curls spilling over her shoulders, her brows furrowed with something that looked too close to fear.

You tried to push yourself up, but pain flared hot in your ribs.

“Don’t,” Mor said instantly, her hands on your shoulders before you could protest. “You need to rest.”

You groaned, flopping back against the pillows. “Did we…win?”

Mor glared. “That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”

You attempted a weak smirk. “So… yes?”

She huffed, rolling her eyes, but you caught the way her hands trembled slightly as she pulled back.

“What happened?” you asked, voice hoarse.

Mor exhaled sharply. “You almost died, that’s what happened.”

You blinked.

She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, but her golden eyes never left you. “You took a direct hit from magic. When I found you, you were barely breathing.”

“I’ve had worse.”

Wrong thing to say.

Mor’s expression darkened, and her voice was quiet, but sharp as a blade. “Don’t you dare joke about that.”

Silence.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling the weight of the situation.

Someone had cleaned you up, dressed your wounds, wrapped your ribs with expert care. Your leathers were gone, replaced by a soft, oversized shirt that smelled faintly of Mor’s perfume.

Your eyes flicked back to her.

She caught your look and rolled her eyes again. “Don’t make it weird. You were bleeding all over yourself, I wasn’t going to let you sleep in that mess.”

A chuckle slipped from you—bad idea. It made your ribs protest painfully, and you grimaced.

That worry in Mor’s face was back in an instant.

“I’m fine,” you tried.

She scoffed. “You were unconscious for almost two days.”

Before you could respond, the door creaked open.

“Ah, finally awake?”

Cassian.

The General of the Night Court strolled into the room with his usual easy swagger, but there was something softer in his gaze when he looked at you. Concern.

Behind him, Azriel followed silently, shadows curling around his shoulders.

“I see Mor has been hovering,” Cassian mused, smirking.

Mor whipped around. “I have not been—”

Cassian raised a brow.

Mor scowled but didn’t argue.

Azriel sighed, stepping forward. “How do you feel?”

“Like I got hit by a mountain,” you muttered.

Cassian snorted. “Close enough. You took a serious hit out there.” His expression turned more serious. “You scared us.”

You swallowed. You weren’t used to people caring like this.

Mor’s golden eyes shined with something unreadable.

“We’re just glad you’re okay,” Azriel said simply.

You nodded, still a little dazed from all the attention. This wasn’t just relief. This was genuine fear that they had almost lost you.

Rhysand and Feyre appeared in the doorway next, the High Lord and Lady looking equally relieved. Feyre smiled softly, arms crossed. “Don’t do that again.”

“I’ll try my best,” you joked.

Rhysand smirked. “Good.”

You met Mor’s gaze again. She was still watching you like she hadn’t let herself breathe until she saw you awake.

Cassian clapped a hand on your shoulder, careful of your injuries. “We’ll let you rest. But don’t think we won’t be keeping an eye on you.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled.

As they all trickled out, Mor hesitated. She didn’t move.

Silence stretched between you.

Then, softly—“I can’t lose you.”

Your heart stopped.

For a moment, the pain didn’t matter. The battle, the bruises, the aching bones—none of it mattered.

Because Morrigan—the Morrigan—was afraid of losing you.

Slowly, carefully, you reached for her hand. “You won’t,” you promised.

Mor swallowed hard, her golden eyes shining in the candlelight. And then, with a small, tired sigh, she finally let herself relax.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered.

You smirked. “And yet, you love me.”

She huffed a soft laugh, but didn’t deny it.

Instead, she squeezed your hand once more before shifting onto the bed beside you, curling up next to you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Go to sleep,” she murmured.

You smiled, letting your eyes drift shut.

You were safe. You were home.

Aelin certainly acted like one in the mornings, often snoring away into her pillow until you dragged her out of your shared bed. Which only really resulted in a grumpy, sleepy Aelin, but some sacrifices had to be made.

A sacrifice that would have to be made soon it seemed.

Aelin was tucked against your side, her blond hair spread against the bed sheets and tickling your skin. Sunlight filtered into the room, the early morning sun quickly ushering out the shadows of the night and warming you from your position tucked under the blankets.

You sighed, running a hand over Aelin’s skin, warm as always, and gently shook her. “My love, you have to get up.”

Nothing.

You shook her again and were rewarded with a grumble of something that sounded like a “noooo.” You smiled, leaning closer to kiss her temple. “Yeeess.” You replied, gently shaking her once more.

You chuckled as she whines, burying herself deeper into the covers. You watch her for a moment, as the sun washes its light over her and glints over her hair. You comb a hand through it and you feel your heart nearly burst as Aelin leans further into your touch, nearly purring.

At this rate, neither of you would be getting up.

It is with reluctance that you leave the bed, ignoring your wife’s whining and the hand that she reaches out to snatch you back in favor of rooting through one of your drawers. You smile in victory when you finally uncover a box of expensive chocolates, a gift you were planning on gifting Aelin later that night, but desperate times need desperate measures.

You return to the bed, shushing Aelin’s complaints of your previous ‘abandonment’ of her, tucking yourself back into her side before you open the box. It’s comical how quickly Aelin pops up, the scent of chocolate a stronger wake up call for her than anything else you’ve tried. Well, with you as a strong contestant.

She sits up, leaning on your shoulder as you pick up of the delicious sweet and hold it out for her. She gladly snatches it with her mouth, groaning in pleasure as she chews. You grab a bite yourself, leaning further against your wife. It’s delicious, sweet and soft as you chew and swallow.

Aelin presses a kiss to your cheek, snatching another chocolate with her fingers. “Thank you darling.” She murmurs, sleep making her voice husky. She presses the chocolate she snatched to your lips, wordlessly motioning for you to take it.

You gladly do, humming contently. This one had some kind of filling, something fruity, and it makes you hum in pleasure. Aelin chuckles, smiling softly at you as she intertwines the hands your not using to feed each other.

You cling to this sweet moment for a few minutes more, until you have an empty chocolate box in your lap and the sun is higher in the air. You sigh, turning to press a kiss into Aelin’s hair. “We have to get up.”

She groans, burying herself in your shoulder and wrapping her arms around you, clinging to you. You chuckle, lightly scratching her back with your nails. She purrs, relaxing her grip enough for you to slip out of her arms and stand. She yelps in surprise before pouting, glaring at you as you laugh.

“You’re the one who wanted to leave early for the boutique. What were your words? ‘I want to get to the good dresses before anyone else snatches them’?” You remind her, watching as sinking realization floods her face. She groans, running a hand through her hair.

“Alright, alright.” She mutters, stretching like her arms above her head before holding them out to you. Your raise an eyebrow, earning a roll of Aelin’s eyes.

“C’mon, can’t I get just one more kiss before we leave?” She asks, pouting at you. You know that it most definitely won’t be the last kiss of today, but you decide to humor her. You walk into her arms, leaning down to press your lips to hers. She hums, wrapping her arms around your waist.

You pull away, flushing at the soft way she looks at you, a gently smile on her lips. “I love you.” She murmurs and you smile, a hand on her cheek to rub your thumb over it. “I love you too.” You whisper, leaning down to press you lips together again.

You feel her smirk and you only have a moment of realization before she pulls you back onto the bed, laughing loudly. “Aelin!” You laugh, halfheartedly pushing her away as she flings herself over you, pushing you further into the bed.

You’re both late to the shops, people already milling about when you both rush there, but you can’t find it in yourself to care too much. Not when her hand is in yours, her thumb rubbing her it. Not when she smiles softly at you, gently kissing your lips, cheeks and hands any time she can.

you were just a random girl passing joe by in the library.

joe just had to speak to you, your interest in his favorite book of all time attracted him to you right away.

he finds himself unable to look away; it’s like joe’s eyes are superglued to you.

after a few seconds of joe’s own self-reassurance, he’s gathered the courage to talk to you.

“the count of monte cristo…one of my favorites, a great read.”

joe interrupts, nervous about your reaction. you meet him with nothing less than kindness.

“it’s such an intricate book, i don’t think i even have enough words in my vocabulary to rightfully describe it.”

joe laughs at this, taking the opportunity to walk closer to you.

and conversation quickly sparks.

you’re smart, joe can tell by the large stack of books you hold in your arms.

one thing leads to another, and you’re giving this complete stranger your phone number.

“okay joe, i’ll tell you how i liked these books when i finish!”

joe smiles as you wave your goodbyes and check out your hefty stack of books.

from there is when joe’s obsession began, despite his claims saying otherwise.

he makes it his business to visit the library the next day in hopes of seeing you again, and he’s surprised when he sees you in the special collections section, reading the back cover of a book quietly to yourself.

your lips slightly parted as you carefully read over the words, not making any sound.

your eyebrows slightly furrow as you cross over unfamiliar words, trying to understand the particularly complex passage.

you’re delicate, joe like this about you.

you turn and notice joe’s eyes, and your smile immediately lifts at the sight of the familiar man standing only a few feet from you.

joe can see your glance from the corner of his eye, but he tries not to react. waiting to see if you’d make the first move.

you do.

“hey there, joe. surprised to see you here again.”

you say huskily yet cheerily, and joe’s eyes fall upon you. a developing smile, biting at the corner of his lips.

he lifts up a book, flashing it at you.

“trying to debate if this is a good read.”

joe replies, his eyes flashing from you to the book.

“have you read it?”

your eyes squint as you try to catch sight of the title, but once you do, they brighten.

“i have!”

“how’d you like it?”

you think for a moment, eyeing the book and squinting your eyes in thought.

“not really my favorite, i found the plot too predictable and slow.”

joe doesn’t particularly care for the book either, and it’s like the two of you were a match made in heaven.

you go scrambling inside your bookbag, joe watches as discreetly as joe can while your shirt droops.

revealing a small glimpse of your braless breast.

his thoughts trail off in all the wrong directions, yet they feel so right.

“you should try this one! it’s my own personal copy, i thought the characters were well written and felt relatable.”

hearing you talk has quickly become joe’s new favorite thing.

joe meets your hand as you hold the book out, giving it to him. unsurprisingly, he’s read that book as well, but he isn’t about to deflate your obvious excitement.

unfortunately for you, you’ve become joe’s new hobby.

unfortunately for you, joe takes pride in his hobbies, which means immediate research of all things, you.

for joe, you aren’t hard at all to find. over the years, he can rightfully say his skills have improved, and with only an hour's time, joe has nearly found out everything.

you went to school for four years to get your bachelor of fine arts degree. an achievement you hold very closely to your heart, joe was right to assume you were smart.

you’re an only child on your mom’s side, but your father has five other kids with a woman nearly the same age as you.

you don’t keep in contact with your father, joe understands why.

you live in a townhouse across town, inherited by your late uncle.

joe finds out that you’ve recently gone through a breakup with your girlfriend of three years.

why? because she cheated on you.

with her best friend’s grandfather.

you’re on three different dating sites, but it’s quite obvious you’re not looking for anything more than some…fun.

joe understands this; he understands you.

so there’s no surprise that after joe’s wife, love, is fast asleep in bed after a heated argument, he’s wide awake and prepared to make his way to you.

not to spy of course, but to look out for you.

joe isn’t a stalker.

the drive to your house is quiet and much longer than what joe expected, but that could also be because of all his contained excitement.

finally, joe is at your house, parked a block away, so you won’t be alerted. you don’t seem to like blinds or curtains, and that allows joe to see your entire house.

every room in your house from the front seems to be pristine; he’s never seen a neater living room.

his eyes widen in delight when they fall upon you, in all your glory.

joe watches as you press a small vibrator to your cunt, he can’t look away. your back arches against your bed, and it’s like a sight he’s almost never seen before.

your moans send shivers down his spine, like music in his ears.

you even wash your hands after, joe thinks he’s in heaven.

you fall asleep, and joe makes it his business to grab a pair of your underwear, but that’s after he climbs through your open living-room window.

joe promises to himself to scold you about that if the two of you get any closer.

you’re quite a heavy sleeper. joe is astonished when he drops a book of yours on the floor accidentally and you don’t stir.

joe leaves your house with way too many souvenirs than he should have.

he absolutely cannot wait until he can see your face, and your smile again.

until then he must wait.

joe comes home, and love can’t keep her hands off of him. there are no questions asked as to where he’s been, nothing but tongue and cheek.

love possessively claws at joe’s back, her teeth tugging at his lips, and it’s almost like she knows.

all joe thinks about is you, and he just so happens to have your panties in hand. sniffling the garments, his wife unaware.

joe slept like a baby that night.

only thinking about you, and how excited he is to see you again.

it’s all he can think about, even when he’s outside taking a walk with his wife and child.

an activity that love had greatly insisted on.

the sun is out, the wind blows, creating a nice breeze, and the scenery will be good for the baby.

love insists.

joe is examining the town as they walk when love begins talking.

her voice is so calm that it’s chilling.

“where were you last night, joe?”

joe looks to love, her eyes are already on him. her lips are pursed, and it’s obvious she’s upset.

“huh?”

joe replies, treading carefully.

“i’m not an idiot, joe.”

“love, i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

she pushes the stroller slower, emphasizing her response. love doesn’t exactly scare joe, but she can be scary.

which means love scares joe.

or maybe her impulsivity does.

“you went god knows where last night, came back and finally fucked me for the first time in six months. what is that, a coincidence?”

joe can’t find his words, his eyes are wide while he glares at love as if she’s being crazy.

“love, what?”

joe’s stalling and fake confusion doesn’t help his case. this only makes love angrier.

“don’t fucking lie to me.”

love glares at joe, her hands tight around the handlebars of the stroller.

he can’t lie for much longer, joe knows his wife, and she’s far from stupid.

"”fine! i met a girl, she was nice, and i liked that she flirted. what are we doing, policing each other's minds? are we not allowed to have a simple, fleeting fantasy?”

joe looks around in exasperation.

“oh, don’t give me that.”

love scoffs.

“i know you. there’s nothing simple about it when someone gets stuck in your mind. i don’t even care if you fucked her!”

love has completely stopped pushing the stroller by now. she’s more than upset, more than angry.

her eyes are wide, and watery, but she’s not crying.

“sounds like you care.”

joe retorts.

“are you obsessed with her?”

love questions knowingly.

“it’s not like that.”

back.

“really?”

and.

“yeah.”

forth.

“you sure?”

back and forth.

“i’m sure, because it was like that with you, love. i married you!”

“then who the fuck is she?”

“some girl at the library. a nobody, love, it’s you. only you.”

joe seethes, practically begging for love to be rational.

because it’s nothing.

“fine.”

love sighs, and then she’s pushing the stroller, but it seems like she’s in no mood for this walk as they circle back to the house.

joe and love go their separate ways in the house.

love puts henry down for a nap, then decides to finally unpack her baking tools.

she’s stressed, and it’s much needed.

joe is in the backyard, prying for more information about you. no updates on your social media, and it’s not like he can check on you, love is already suspicious.

only it doesn’t seem like that will matter

down in the basement, love finds a box of your personal belongings stashed in a vent.

only you.

she picks up the slightly heavy box, ready to show it to joe. watching as he stammers out a bullshit excuse.

love rushes to the living room, where joe now preoccupied reading his book. she clears her throat, but joe shows no sign of moving, so instead she drops the box into his lap.

the stolen items jostling in the box as joe startles. he realizes what lies in his lap and immediately looks up at love, who’s fuming.

“what the fuck is that.”

love gestures to the box, her eyes moving frantically from joe to the items and back again.

“joe answer me, or so help me god, i’ll kill every girl i see in that fucking library.”

joe can’t figure out if love is bluffing, and he’s unwilling to find out.

“okay, love, okay.”

he huffs, taking out each item one by one.

“i lied, i’m obsessed.”

joe confesses, but only to calm love. he’s not admitting anything willingly.

“good.”

love responds simply, and it’s not at all what joe expected her reaction to be.

she walks away as if the conversation simply never happened, and this frightens joe.

it appears as though love has a few tricks up her sleeve as well, as she decides to search joe’s laptop for any sight of you that he may have left there.

luckily for love, joe hasn’t erased his tracks, and the amount of information joe has lying around could be enough to write a book, and its sequel.

love knows from joe that you visit the library pretty often; that is where she plans on meeting you.

meeting the woman who stole the attention of her husband, just by existing.

love is jealous, but she’d never admit it.

henry is taken care of by his grandmother, and love takes the time to visit the library.

she’s hoping that you’ll be there.

love knows exactly what you look like, what your name is, and the particular section of books you like to hang around.

this visit should be easy, and it is.

love instantly catches sight of you.

sitting alone, face shoved in a stack of books. it’s heartwarming knowing you prefer the physicality of paper pages.

you’re busy in your own space, headphones propped over your ears, and your head bobbing slightly to the music.

love immediately knows—it’s you.

it’s not until love sees you in person that she realizes why you look so familiar.

you very frequently visit her bakery, always settling down quietly at the farthest table. pastry in hand with a cup of coffee to wash it down.

you’re kind, you make small talk, and you give compliments good enough to make the most stubborn person smile.

so, no killing you anytime soon.

love decides then to leave the library, and for a while, the entire encounter crosses her mind.

things are still tense between love and joe but honestly, she doesn’t seem to mind.

wrapping herself up with work and henry to the point of not caring about anything else.

it’s a particularly hot california day when love sees you again, quite a while after the last time.

love struggles to carry the abundance of bags she has from shopping for groceries for the bakery. she’s so frustrated, that practically anyone could tell by the exasperated look on her face.

even more frustration comes with the fact that love still has so many more bags left.

that’s where you come in, like love’s knight in shining armor.

a helpful jogger.

“can i help you with that?”

love is thankful, relief washing over her as the sun blares down on her skin.

leaving a slight sheen of sweat in its place.

love tries to help you, help her, but you don’t allow her to. a kind smile on your face as you push love gently to lean against her car.

a kind gesture that you seem to think nothing off.

your hands linger on her waist, and love finds herself enjoying the touch way more than she should.

you’re very subtly flirting.

love likes that about you.

she finds herself flustered, still thinking about your touch on her skin.

“um, can i get you anything? it’s really hot out, and you really didn’t have to help me.”

you smile at love.

“sure, i’d love that.”

love could sit and talk to you for hours, and that’s exactly what the two of you do.

even when love gets a rush of customers in dire need of ice cream and Italian ice, you’re still sitting patiently waiting for her to come back to you.

unbeknownst to love, quite a few times do you find yourself staring at this beautiful girl you’re so elated to finally be conversing with.

“i really can’t thank you enough for helping me earlier.”

love begins, fiddling with a cardboard treat box.

“here, take this.”

love pushes the treat box your way. inside is a cool strawberry cheesecake, waiting to be savored.

you shuffle inside your pockets, finding cash to stuff inside the tip-jar.

she pulls the jar away, grinning widely at you.

“love.”

you warn.

“it’s a gift. free of charge.”

love teases, but you only gape at her.

“you can pay the next time you come.”

love saying that only solidifies your thoughts of visiting again.

“only if you’re here the next time.”

you tease, eyes gazing longingly at love.

“you know it.”

and with that you’re leaving, box in bag, bag in hand. already thinking about what you and love will talk about the next time you visit her bakery.

each day after your first encounter with love, the two of you proceed to see one another at least every other day for the rest of the month.

it’s like a breath of fresh air for love to be around someone she knows wants to be around her too.

you walk into ‘a fresh tart’ with a bouquet of beautiful, bright red roses in hand.

love knows already they’re for her, you gave her roses the other day, and if this goes on for any longer, she’ll have enough to make a garden in no time.

“pretty flowers for a pretty girl.”

you grin, satchel over your shoulder, handing love the roses as she reaches out for them.

smelling the fresh scent of fresh flowers.

“i still have the ones you gave me three days ago.”

love exchanges the fake flowers resting in a vase on a table for the ones you’ve given her.

“i think they enjoy your company better than the flower shop.”

real flowers are such a difficult maintenance task, but love doesn’t complain, and you already do so well with the upkeep of the two other bouquets resting on the other tables.

you’re already seated at your usual table with your books laid out. a flustered and frustrated look on your face that love has never seen before as you glare at your phone.

she quietly seats herself across from you. light blue apron slipping from the tie around her back.

immediately, you snap out of it.

“what’s the matter?”

love questions with care, she pouts. a habit she’d quickly picked up from little henry.

you switch the topic, and for a while, your comment makes love forget about her question.

you flip your phone upside down, but the harsh buzz on the table still rings out.

love continues talking, but it’s obvious you’re distracted.

“something’s wrong, what’s the matter?”

you huff, your eyes closing momentarily, but love grabs both your hands as reassurance.

“it’s my ex. she cheated on me and i broke it off, i forgave her for a while and we remained friends, but things got weird a bit ago when she tried to make a move on me.”

you sign, squeezing love’s hand.

“it’s shitty talking about her right now, i’m sorry.”

“it’s fine, if it’s bothering you, you should talk about it.”

she gives you a toothy, friendly grin, and you return one. kissing the back of her hand as you hold it.

things like that you do so easily, as if it doesn’t mean the world to love.

“no really, i’m here to talk to you. how’s my lovey doing?”

nicknames like that, makes love’s heart swoon.

love peers fondly at you, her head craned as she smiles.

“you’re very flirty.”

love admits and you laugh.

“i’m not!”

“you are! not that i’m complaining, it’s sweet…and sexy.”

love chides, testing the waters.

making her move, a frequent event the two of you flicker between. thankfully you're in the mood to reciprocate.

“oh really?”

love nods.

“mhm.”

“well how about we close the bakery up for the day, go to my house, and really see how flirty i can be?”

love has to purse her lips to suppress the moan she desperately wants to let out.

love doesn’t hesitate for one moment. she’s locking up the bakery, and driving with you to your house.

your hand resting on love’s lap for the entire ride. keeping love aware of how real this is.

she has you, love has you.

love wastes no time, and the two of you were a desperate, pent up mess from the sexual frustration the both of you had been treating the other with.

your hands are on love’s waist as you close your front door, pressing your back against it as love captures your lips.

she looks so pretty, eyes low and blue. trying to pull her revealing pink-top off as quickly as she can.

your lips are pressed on her neck, suckling love marks against the flesh relentlessly.

your hands tug at her long brown hair, craning her neck for more space and she moans loudly as your hands roam her body.

it’s nearly impossible to get to the bedroom without a second of you touching her. love hurriedly pulling off your shirt, and it’s like everything must happen in under 5 seconds. 

your shirt is the next article of clothing to come off, leaving love and you in only a bra and pants. 

shoes being left neglected near the front door, long ago. 

love is breathless when you push her onto the bed, she’s been here like this multiple times before, but every time feels brand-new with you. 

there’s not a second your lips aren’t on hers. 

your lips meet with love’s intimately, in matrimony. her arms wrapped around your neck, holding you close. love could never find this touch elsewhere. 

this resides with you, and you only. 

love knows that now. 

she’s not ashamed to admit how quickly obsessed she’s become with you. 

the two of you met naturally, and that’s all that matters. 

without removing love’s jeans, you stuff your hand into them. tucking your hand under her thin underwear, feeling for the slick coming from love’s wet cunt. 

you’re amazing at working her up. 

love’s evident desire for you, hissing out curses of your name as you flick lightly at her clit. 

giving not too much, but enough to leave her like putty in your hands. 

love struggles to continue kissing you back, her lips faltering for just a second, but yours are already attached to her neck by then. 

love’s moans unabashedly fill the room, along with her breathy sighs. you fingers working like magic as you tease. 

“so pretty like this.”

you whisper softly into love’s ear, she whimpers in response. desperate to connect your lips again, embarrassed by her own moans of pleasure. 

“c’mon, let me hear you.”

love is stubborn, and if she wants something, she’s getting it. 

your lips go from lingering over hers, teasing, but by now you should know better. 

in a split second, love is pulling on your collar to kiss you. 

love’s breath becomes shaky as you slowly thrust two fingers into her soaked cunt. she’s looking up at you, as if she’s ravishing your figure with just her eyes. 

you have love seated, she’s unable to move under your hold, and quite frankly, she doesn’t even want to. 

her lips are hot, and soft. undecided on whether they want to nibble or gasp. 

the tension is at an all time high, you pump your fingers skillfully. rubbing up against her sweet spot to make love’s knees buckle even with sitting. 

her pussy flutters around your fingers, and you know you’re getting somewhere. 

your opposite hand snugly placed on love’s waist. while her hands pull you closer, she wants your lips but air is needed. 

the two of you pull away completely breathless, yet your fingers continue their movements, which nearly knocks the wind out of love. 

“right there, don’t stop.”

she’s squirming as your fingers plunge inside of her, pushing them deep, right up to your knuckles. 

you curl them perfectly, pressing that lovely spot inside of her feverishly. 

over and over and over again.

she’s so helplessly wet that the sounds of her slick cunt nearly overpower her pathetic whimpers. 

schlick, schlick, schlick. 

you shamelessly pump your fingers, listening and watching as love only gets louder for you. 

you’re too good, that it’s almost too much. 

love’s pussy soaks your fingers with her release as she leans into your body. 

absolutely spent. 

she’s heavily exhaling, her brown hair ruffled, and she looks like the prettiest mess ever.

a pretty mess, you made. 

when love finally returns home, it’s way past midnight. joe sits on the couch waiting, and when he hears the front door open, he races to the door. 

“she’s dead, isn’t she?”

joe questions, but love isn’t having it. she doesn’t give her husband the time of day of a response. 

the disheveled hair, bruises, and wrinkled clothes don’t help to convince joe of the opposite. 

for all he knows. love finally found you, slit your throat, and buried you six feet deep in a hole in the forest. 

she walks upstairs, leaving joe thinking you’re dead, and why not. 

love will get to have you all to herself. 

in the short amount of time you’ve come to meet love, you’ve single-handedly turned her life around for the better. 

she’s the happiest she’s ever been, and having the best sex she’s ever had. 

each day passes with love falling harder, and harder for you. 

the more that happens, the less she seems to care for joe. 

his obsession for you had backfired, but love wasn’t going to let that happen to herself. 

she had a plan, love was going to keep you forever. 

she’d show joe just how wrapped around her finger she had you. 

love straddles her husband, leaning in for a kiss to which joe doesn’t deny. he takes a sharp intake of breath and love rolls off of him, revealing a needle she had pressed into his side.

“hey, it’s okay. relax, don’t fight it.”

love says quietly, faking sympathy. 

she caresses joe’s face as he looks around in panic, his ability to move becoming increasingly difficult.

joe rolls off the bed with some of the movement he has left, he groans loudly as he falls face first onto the floor.

“you made this easy, joe. you’re the problem, i tried. it’s not me.”

love pushes joe under the bed, she struggles, but ultimately he fits snuggly underneath.

“it’s not me.”

she repeats quietly. 

joe sits tucked away for no one to see.

“you’re gonna lay there and listen while your wife fucks the girl you met at the library. decided to keep her, i can see why you like her.”

from under the bed, joe can see love smirking down at him. 

it’s degrading, he’s embarrassed, frustrated. 

love was going to put a show on for joe. 

only he wouldn’t be able to see it, that would be too much of a luxury for him. 

love places henry’s baby monitor beside joe’s head.

“want you to hear this.”

love takes the other monitor, walking downstairs and placing the item on an end table as she waits for you to ring the doorbell.

which doesn’t take long, and you’re filled with worry when love opens the door.

“love? is everything okay? you texted me very frantically.”

love steps aside, and you walk into the house, confused.

love closes the front door, pushing you against it. her lips immediately attack your neck, and you can’t help but to lean into her touch. 

“just wanted to get you here, wanted to spend some time with you.”

love replies.    

you huff out a relieved laugh, holding love close. pecking her lips, way too many times.  

“could've told me what you wanted, i would’ve rushed to you all the same.”

now that your worry has faded, you’re finally able to take in love’s appearance. 

she’s dressed in a tight-fitting sage top with a flowery slitted blue skirt. the sleeves slip down her shoulder, but she uses it to tease you. 

“i like this, a lot.”

you hum, hiking up the skirt with a gentle hand. 

“want you upstairs.”

love compromises, pursing her lips and making deep eye-contact. 

regardless of joe listening in, it’s obvious love wants you. 

very badly does she want you. 

“lead me.”

your hands brush themselves into love’s neatly styled brown hair, cascading over her shoulders.  the rough treatment has her already moaning for you. 

a genuine reaction. 

she doesn’t need to fake how good you make her feel. 

you chase love giddily as she runs upstairs to the bedroom, your hand in hers. blue skirt, trailing after her. 

you and love stop beside the bed, she’s pulling at your clothes frantically. 

unbuttoning and unzipping any parts of clothing that might need it. 

you bide on love’s timing, moving at her fast-pace. she’s barely able to keep her hands off of you, lips nibbling at the lobe of your ear. 

whispering sweet nothings loud enough for joe to hear. her hands fondling any exposed part she could get to. 

you’re then pushing love onto her bed, she eyes you with pure desire. 

hiking up her long skirt to allow you a small peek, you’re greedy, and of course it’s not enough. 

you want love, to taste her, to fuck her into absolute oblivion, just as you knew she wanted you to. 

love’s peep-show reveals the lack of undergarments she sports under her outfit. love’s nipples harden, pressing against the tight shirt. 

you catch a glimpse as the shirt slips from her shoulders, pink nipples on display. 

you hold love close, swirling your tongue against the small bud. she moans softly, the stimulation being more pleasurable than love would’ve expected. 

her eyes close tightly, when you fully pull her shirt down. forcing the fabric around her hips as a belt, leaving love’s chest fully exposed for you. 

love gasps as you surprise her with a gentle yet harsh bite of her breast, fondling the other with your opposite hand. 

“please.”

love begs, and while she’s not normally the type to beg, you seem to have changed that mindset. 

“tell me what you want, love.”

you tease. 

“fuck me.”

she whines breathlessly, holding your head against her breast as you lick, suck and bite. 

“how do you want me?”

you question, meeting love’s gaze. she shivers, you’re giving her a choice. 

“taste me.”

love decides, crawling to the middle of the bed so she could push your head between her thighs. 

where she wants you most. 

you obey the needy girl, love’s skirt wrinkled by now as it pools at her hips. 

her cunt drools with arousal for you, she’s so incredibly sensitive that a single lick from you skillful tongue could send her over the edge. 

you’re not one to deny love of what she wants, you don’t hesitate for a second to spread love’s legs for you. 

she slouches on her forearms, carefully watching your movements. 

you take a swift lick of love’s pussy, spreading her folds to expose the slick. love's hips attempt to buck against your face, but you’re pushing her down. 

“be still, or i’ll stop. you know better.”

love whines as you blow softly at her budding clit. 

“you like that?”

the girl simply nods, too overwhelmed with pleasure to answer. your tongue licking at her cunt, a distraction that she won’t at all complain about. 

“tell me, love.”

you insist, halting your movements. making love shudder, whimpering at the loss of your mouth. 

“i like that.”

love blushes, stammering over her own words as you lick at her wet cunt. your fingers tracing tight circles onto her clit. 

“good girl.”

joe is forced into a paralyzed standstill. 

unable to talk or move, only able to listen. 

a problem that love will inevitably have to deal with later on. right now she couldn’t care less, too wrapped up in your heaven-sent touch.

you and love. 

it’s only you. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*