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[ SYNOPSIS ] — After a brutal mission, Megumi Fushiguro says something that confirms your deepest fear that your voice is a burden. You shrink yourself into silence for weeks until a chance encounter with Yuuta Okkotsu finally lets you spill everything you've been holding in. When Megumi sees you having fun with Yuuta, his own insecurities convince him he was losing you. w.c: 6.7k
[ PAIRING ] — megumi fushiguro x talkative!reader
[ TAGS ] — THIS FIC IS A REQUEST!! fem!reader, hurt/comfort, established relationship, internalized self-doubt, self-esteem issues, jealousy issues, YUUTA MENTION!!!, platonic friendships, insecure megumi. art by: @/11101AM
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The silence in Megumi Fushiguro’s apartment had never felt like a weapon before. It had always been a soft, comfortable thing. The quiet of shared space, the peace of two people who didn’t need to fill every moment with noise. But tonight, the silence it felt different.
Megumi had come home late, later than usual, his shoulders hunched and his jaw tight. You’d watched him shrug off his jacket, his movements jerky and exhausted, and your heart had clenched with sympathy. You knew he’d had a brutal week. A mission had gone sideways, leaving him with a concussion and a civilian casualty that wasn’t his fault but weighed on him anyway. Then there had been the endless debriefings, the paperwork, the sidelong glances from the higher-ups who always seemed to be waiting for him to fail. You’d seen the dark circles under his eyes deepen with each passing day, watched him pick at his food without eating, and felt him toss and turn beside you in bed long after the lights went out.
So you’d done what you always did. You’d tried to help. You’d made his favorite tea, the ginger one that stung the nose and warmed the throat. You’d set out his comfortable clothes, the soft sweater with the frayed cuffs he loved. And when he’d sunk onto the couch with a bone-deep sigh, you’d settled beside him and started talking, hoping to pull him out of his head, to distract him from the darkness you could see swirling behind his eyes.
“I was thinking about time today,” you’d begun, your voice soft and meandering, the way it always was when you were trying to soothe him. “Not like, clock time, but geological time. Did you know that if you compressed the entire history of the Earth into a single year, humans wouldn’t show up until like, eleven-forty PM on December thirty-first? And the entire recorded history of human civilization would be the last few seconds before midnight? It’s wild, right? All of our wars and art and love and everything, just this tiny little blip. And it made me think about how when you’re in the middle of a bad week, it feels like it’s going to last forever, but in the grand scheme of things, it’s not even a fraction of a fraction of a—”
“Can you just be quiet?”
The words weren’t loud. They weren’t even particularly harsh. But they stopped you cold, your mouth still half-open around the next syllable, your hands frozen mid-gesture. You stared at him, waiting for the punchline, the softening of his eyes, the small quirk of his lips that meant he was teasing.
It didn’t come.
He wasn’t looking at you. His head was tilted back against the couch, his eyes closed, and there was a furrow between his brows so deep it looked carved there. The words hung in the air between you, ugly and final, and for one bizarre, disorienting moment, a single thought cut through your shock: This isn’t Megumi.
The thought was so strong, so visceral, that your eyes darted around the room, half-expecting to see the shimmer of a veil, the telltale distortion of a curse’s technique. Because this couldn’t be real. Your Megumi—your sweet, quiet, secretly tender Megumi who let you put face masks on him and once sat through a three-hour documentary about nudibranchs because you’d said they looked like tiny sea dragons and you loved them—your Megumi would never, ever say that to you. This had to be a curse. Some vile, parasitic thing wearing his skin, twisting his voice, using his exhaustion as a doorway in.
You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until your lungs started to burn. Your hands were trembling in your lap, but you kept them still, kept your face as neutral as you could manage, while your mind spiraled through every exorcism you’d ever studied, every curse you’d ever encountered. You searched his face for some sign of the supernatural, some glint of something that wasn’t him.
Megumi’s eyes opened, and you searched them desperately. But all you saw was exhaustion. Bone-deep, soul-crushing exhaustion, and underneath it, a flicker of irritation that made your stomach drop.
He must have seen something in your expression—the wide-eyed horror, the desperate scanning—because his brow furrowed further. "Nothing is wrong, I just… I can’t right now. I need quiet. Please.”
Please. He’d said please, like it was a reasonable request, like he hadn’t just taken the thing you were most vulnerable about—the thing you’d been terrified of your entire life—and confirmed it was true. You talked too much, you shared too much, you were too much, and the one person you’d trusted with all of it had finally gotten sick of pretending otherwise.
You didn’t remember standing up. You didn’t remember walking to the bedroom. All you remembered was the click of the door closing behind you, the sound of your own heartbeat thundering in your ears, and the slow, creeping horror of a new thought slithering into your mind.
What if he’s been holding this back for our entire relationship, and tonight he just… slipped?
You pressed your back against the bedroom door and slid down until you were sitting on the floor, your knees drawn up to your chest. The tears came hot and silent, and with them, the spiral.
Because the thing was, it made sense. It made terrible, perfect sense.
You’d always known you talked a lot. You’d been told so your whole life—by teachers who moved your desk to the back of the classroom, by friends who slowly stopped returning your texts, by family members who smiled tight smiles and said, “Don’t you ever run out of things to say?” You talked when you were happy, when you were nervous, when you were sad, and when you were excited. Talking was how you processed the world. It was how you connected, how you loved, how you breathed.
And Megumi… Megumi was so quiet. He spoke in glances and small gestures, in the brush of his fingers against yours, in the way he’d make you tea without being asked. You’d always thought—hoped—that your talking was the yang to his yin, that you filled the silences he didn’t want to fill himself, that he liked it, that he liked you.
But what if he didn’t? What if every story you’d ever told him, every random observation, every excited ramble about sea slugs or cloud formations or the socioeconomic implications of ancient Roman plumbing—what if every single word had been sandpaper against his nerves? What if all those little hums and nods, the ones you’d interpreted as listening, had actually been him just… enduring?
You thought back through your entire relationship, and the memories shifted and warped before your eyes, taking on a sinister new shape. The time you’d spent forty-five minutes explaining the plot of a book he’d never read, and he’d just sat there, silent. You’d thought he was being a good listener. What if he’d been wishing you would stop? The time you’d made him watch a video essay about the history of buttons, and he’d fallen asleep halfway through. You’d teased him about it, thinking it was cute. What if he’d been so bored, so exhausted by your endless stream of words, that his body had just given up?
Every memory became evidence. Every silence became a verdict. And you, who loved him so much, realized with a sickening lurch that your love might have been a burden. That the very thing you’d been offering him—yourself, unfiltered and enthusiastic and overflowing—might have been the thing he’d secretly wished he could escape.
You didn’t sleep that night. You lay in bed, still and silent as a stone, listening to Megumi’s breathing on the other side of the mattress. He didn’t reach for you. He didn’t say anything. And that, too, felt like confirmation.
───
The next morning, you woke up with a new resolve. If Megumi needed quiet, you would give him quiet. If your talking was a burden, you would set it down. You would become smaller, neater, easier. You would be the girlfriend he deserved, not the one he’d been saddled with.
It was the hardest thing you’d ever done.
The first day, you caught yourself a dozen times. You’d open your mouth to tell him about the weird bird you’d seen outside the window, and you’d snap it shut again. You’d pick up your phone to text him a thought that had just occurred to you, and you’d set it back down. Every suppressed word felt like a small death, a little piece of yourself that you were burying alive.
But you did it. For him, you did it.
“Morning,” you said when he stumbled into the kitchen. One word. Neat. Contained. You placed his coffee in front of him—black, no sugar, the way he liked it—and turned back to the sink.
Megumi grunted in response, rubbing his eyes. He didn’t seem to notice anything different. Why would he? This was probably what he’d always wanted. A quiet morning. A peaceful coffee. A girlfriend who didn’t assault him with trivia before he’d fully woken up.
The second day was harder. You saw a dog on your walk home that looked exactly like his Divine Dog, a big black shaggy thing with soulful eyes, and your first instinct was to take a picture, to send it to him, to say, “Look! It’s your son! He’s working at a café now apparently, very distinguished!” You had your phone out, the camera app open, before you remembered. You put the phone away. You walked home in silence. And when Megumi asked, “How was your day?” you said, “Fine,” and nothing else.
The third day, the fourth day, the fifth day—they all blurred together into a haze. You’d never realized how much of your life was made of words until you had to swallow every single one. You’d never realized how lonely silence could be until you were drowning in it.
You didn’t have a lot of close friends. It wasn’t that people didn’t like you—they did, or at least, they seemed to. But friendships required maintenance, and you’d always poured so much of yourself into your relationship with Megumi that there hadn’t been much left over. He’d been your person. The one you texted at 2 AM when you had a thought that couldn’t wait. The one whose shoulder you shook when you saw something beautiful or weird or funny, because sharing it with him was what made it real.
Now you had no one. The thoughts piled up inside you, a tower of unsaid words growing taller every day. You started a journal, but it wasn’t the same. The journal didn’t hum in the right places. The journal didn’t roll its eyes fondly or call you an idiot with that particular soft inflection that meant I love you. The journal was just paper, and you were so, so lonely.
Megumi didn’t notice.
Well, that wasn’t entirely fair. He noticed something. He noticed that you were quieter, but he chalked it up to mood swings. You’d always been emotional, up and down, sunshine and rain. He figured you were going through something personal—maybe family stuff, maybe hormones, maybe just the general weight of being a sorcerer in a world that never stopped needing saving. He’d ask, “You okay?” and you’d say, “I’m fine,” and he’d accept it, because Megumi was not, by nature, a person who pushed.
A small, petty part of you wanted him to push. You wanted him to grab you by the shoulders and say, “You’re not fine. You haven’t told me a single fact about marine biology in five days. What’s wrong?” But he didn’t. He just drifted through the apartment like a ghost, and you drifted with him, two silent ships passing in a fog of your own making.
Weeks passed. You got very good at being quiet. You learned the precise number of words required to get through a day without arousing suspicion: “Good morning.” “Do you want dinner?” “I’m going to bed.”
And through it all, the thoughts kept coming. They never stopped. Every moment of every day, your brain was churning out observations, questions, connections, jokes, stories. Did you know that octopuses have three hearts? Did you know that the moon is slowly moving away from the Earth? Did you know that I love you so much it’s killing me not to tell you? The words pressed against the inside of your skull and you had nowhere to put them.
Until Yuuta.
───
You’d gone to the sorcerer headquarters to drop off some paperwork for Gojo—a favor you’d agreed to in the morning. You were walking across the training grounds, head down, already composing the text you wouldn’t send Megumi about the interesting moss pattern on the path, when you literally ran into someone.
“Oh! I’m so sorry, I wasn’t—” You looked up into a pair of kind, worried eyes, and your brain short-circuited. “Yuuta?”
Yuuta Okkotsu smiled at you, that gentle, slightly awkward smile that made him look like a startled puppy. “Hey! It’s good to see you. I feel like it’s been forever. How are you? How’s Megumi?”
And something in you, something that had been wound tight for weeks, just… snapped.
“Did you know,” you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them, “that there’s a species of jellyfish that’s biologically immortal? It’s called the Turritopsis dohrnii, and when it gets injured or stressed or just old, it can revert back to its polyp stage and start its whole life cycle over. It’s like hitting the reset button on your own existence. Scientists are studying it to see if there are applications for human aging, but honestly, I think the jellyfish is onto something. Imagine if every time you made a horrible mistake, you could just turn back into a baby and try again. Megumi would probably appreciate that, right? A do-over button for relationships? ‘Oh no, I’ve been a terrible boyfriend, time to become a polyp!’ Though I guess that’s not really fair. He’s not terrible. I’m the terrible one. I’m the one who talks too much. That’s literally what he said. Well, not literally, but implied. He said, ‘Can you just be quiet?’ and I’ve been trying, I really have, but it’s so hard because I have all these thoughts and nowhere to put them and I can’t tell him because he doesn’t want to hear it and I don’t have anyone else because he was my person and now I’m just—I’m just full. Do you ever feel full? Like you’re going to burst if you don’t say something, but if you say something, the person you love most in the world is going to look at you with that exhausted, annoyed expression, and you’ll die a little inside? No? Just me? Okay. Okay, I’m sorry. I’m doing it again. I’m talking too much. I should stop. I’m going to stop now.”
You stopped. You were breathing hard, your heart pounding, and you realized with a distant sort of horror that you’d just verbally vomited all over Yuuta Okkotsu, a man you barely knew, a man who was probably just trying to be polite and was now trapped in a conversation with a lunatic.
But Yuuta didn’t look trapped. He looked… concerned. And interested. And maybe a little bit sad.
“The jellyfish thing is really cool,” he said quietly. “Tell me more about that.”
You stared at him. “What?”
“The immortal jellyfish. How does it work, exactly? Does it remember its previous life, or is it a blank slate every time?”
It was like someone had opened a floodgate. You couldn’t stop yourself. You didn’t want to stop yourself. You told him about the cellular transdifferentiation process, about the way the jellyfish’s cells could change from one type to another, about the implications for regenerative medicine and the philosophical questions it raised about identity and consciousness and what it meant to truly die. And then, because he was still listening, still nodding, still asking questions with genuine curiosity in his dark eyes, you told him about octopuses and moon phases and the time you’d gotten lost in a museum and accidentally attended a lecture on medieval grain storage, and it had been the most fascinating hour of your life.
You talked for two hours. Two solid hours of uninterrupted, uncensored, gloriously rambling. You told Yuuta things you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding in. You told him about the specific shade of gray the sky turned before a storm, and the way Megumi’s hair fell over his eyes when he was concentrating, and the dream you’d had about flying whales, and the theory you’d developed about pigeons being government drones, and—
And through it all, Yuuta listened. He didn’t endure. He listened. He laughed at your jokes. He gasped at your revelations. He leaned in when you got to the good parts, and he shook his head in wonder when you finished a particularly convoluted tangent. He was, you realized with a pang, everything you’d been missing. Not a romantic prospect—you were too in love with Megumi for that, even now, even after everything—but a friend. A real, true friend who didn’t seem to mind that you talked too much. Who maybe even liked it.
“That was incredible,” Yuuta said when you finally wound down, your throat hoarse and your heart lighter than it had been in weeks. “You’re like a living Wikipedia, except way more entertaining. Megumi’s a lucky guy.”
The mention of Megumi’s name was like a splash of cold water. “I should… I should probably go. I’ve taken up enough of your time.”
“You didn’t take anything,” Yuuta said firmly. “I offered. And honestly?” He ducked his head, a little shy. “It was nice. I enjoyed learning so much, and if it made you feel better, then I am even more glad. So thank you. For talking to me.”
Something in your chest cracked open. “You’re welcome, thank you too for hearing me.” you whispered. And you meant it.
───
The afternoon sun was slanting through the trees of the training grounds, casting long, golden shadows across the grass, and Megumi Fushiguro was worried.
Something was wrong with you. He’d noticed it in the small things—the way you’d stopped texting him random facts in the middle of the day, the way the apartment had become so painfully quiet, the way you’d answer his questions with one-word responses and tight, brittle smiles that never reached your eyes. He’d told himself it was a mood swing, or stress, or something personal that you’d share when you were ready. He’d told himself to be patient, to give you space, to be the steady, silent presence you needed.
But today, the worry had sharpened into something sharper. You hadn’t answered your phone. Three calls, straight to voicemail. You were supposed to drop off paperwork for Gojo, a simple errand that should have taken an hour at most, but three hours had passed and you still weren’t home. Megumi had tried to ignore the cold knot forming in his stomach. He’d tried to reason with himself—maybe your phone died, maybe you got caught up talking to someone, maybe you just needed time alone. But the image of your face that morning, pale and drawn and so terribly quiet, had pushed him out the door.
He found you on a bench near the old training fields, a secluded spot dappled with light and shadow, the kind of place you used to drag him to for “cloud-watching dates” where you’d spend an hour narrating the lives of the cumulus sheep and their stratus shepherds. The memory hit him like a punch to the chest, a reminder of everything that had been missing, everything he’d somehow let slip away.
But you weren’t alone.
Yuuta Okkotsu was sitting beside you on the bench, his body angled toward you in a posture of complete, undivided attention. And you were talking. You were talking the way you used to talk to Megumi, your hands flying through the air, your face alight with an animation he hadn’t seen in weeks, your voice carrying across the grass in a bright, effervescent stream that made his heart seize in his chest.
"—And that’s why I’m convinced pigeons are actually government surveillance drones,” you were saying, your voice breathless with laughter. “I mean, think about it, Yuuta. They’re everywhere. They never migrate. They have that weird red eye thing that looks exactly like a camera lens. And have you ever seen a baby pigeon? No. You haven’t. Because they’re not born. They’re manufactured.”
Yuuta laughed—a real, genuine laugh, warm and surprised—and Megumi watched him shake his head in wonder. “That’s the most unhinged wild I’ve ever heard,” Yuuta said, but his voice was fond, almost admiring. “I love it. What else do you have? What’s your take on squirrels?”
“Oh, squirrels are just tree spies,” you said immediately, and you launched into another tangent without missing a beat, your whole body leaning toward Yuuta like he was the sun and you were a flower desperate for light.
Megumi stood frozen at the edge of the treeline, hidden in the shadows of a large oak, and watched.
He should have walked away. He should have announced himself, or texted you that he was there, or done anything other than stand there like a ghost, eavesdropping on a conversation that was never meant for his ears. But he couldn’t move. His feet were rooted to the ground, and his eyes were fixed on you, on the way you sparkled, on the way you came alive in a way you hadn’t around him in weeks.
Look at her, a voice whispered in the back of his mind, cold and insidious. Look at how happy she is. Look at how she’s glowing. You haven’t made her look like that in weeks. Maybe ever.
He tried to push the thought away, but it clung to him like a curse, sinking its claws into the softest, most vulnerable parts of his heart. He watched Yuuta lean in slightly, his dark eyes soft with genuine interest, and something bitter and acidic rose in Megumi’s throat.
Of course. Of course it’s Yuuta.
Yuuta Okkotsu, the prodigy. The special grade sorcerer who had overcome a curse born of love itself. The one everyone admired, the one everyone trusted, the one who was unfailingly kind and gentle and everything Megumi knew, deep in his bones, he could never be.
He’s perfect for her.
The thought was a knife twisting in his gut. Yuuta was everything you deserved. He was affectionate. He was emotionally available. He probably knew how to say “I love you” without choking on the words, without hoping his actions could speak loudly enough to drown out his silence. He would never snap at you after a hard week. He would never make you feel like your voice was a burden. He would listen—really listen, with his whole heart, the way he was listening now—and he would make you feel seen, cherished, adored.
And what did Megumi do? He grunted. He nodded. He made tea and hoped you understood that the steam rising from the cup meant you are my whole world. He was a coward, a man made of silences and shadows, and he’d always known, somewhere deep down, that it was only a matter of time before you realized you deserved more.
This is it, he thought, and the cold certainty of it settled over him like a shroud. She’s found someone who can give her what I can’t. Someone who can listen. She’s going to leave me.
He watched you laugh again, your hand reaching out to touch Yuuta’s arm in a gesture of easy familiarity, and something inside him cracked. You used to touch him like that. You used to look at him like that, like he was the only person in the world who mattered. And he’d thrown it away. He’d thrown it away with two stupid, careless sentences, spoken in a moment of exhausted weakness.
“Can you just be quiet?”
The memory of that night crashed over him like a wave of ice. He remembered the way your face had crumpled, the way you’d frozen, silent and terrified, before retreating to the bedroom without a word. How you’d looked at him like he was a stranger wearing a familiar face. And he’d been too tired, too wrapped up in his own misery, to follow you. He’d let you go. He’d let you think, for weeks, that your voice was a burden, that your beautiful, bright, overflowing self was something to be endured rather than cherished.
And now here you were, blooming under someone else’s attention, because he had starved you of his own.
She deserves this, he thought, and the resignation was so heavy it made his knees weak. She deserves someone who doesn’t make her feel like she has to be small. Someone who doesn’t need weeks to notice she’s dying inside. Someone like Yuuta.
Yuuta said something that made you laugh again—a full, unrestrained, head-tilted-back laugh that Megumi hadn’t heard in so long he’d almost forgotten the sound of it. The joy in it was a blade, and it cut him to the bone. He wanted to be the one making you laugh like that. He wanted to be the one you leaned toward, the one you touched, the one you trusted with your wild theories and endless curiosities. But he’d forfeited that right, hadn’t he? He’d pushed you away, and you’d found someone else to fill the space he’d left.
If you love her, you’ll let her go. The thought was noble, self-sacrificing, the kind of thought the heroes in your stories would have. But Megumi wasn’t a hero. He was a jealous, terrified, broken man who couldn’t stand the idea of losing you, even if it was exactly what he deserved.
He watched Yuuta stand up from the bench, saying something that made you smile and nod. You stood too, and for one horrible, heart-stopping moment, Megumi thought you might hug him, might press yourself against Yuuta the way you used to press against him. But you didn’t. You just waved, a cheerful, grateful wave, and Yuuta walked away, leaving you alone on the path.
Megumi should have waited. He should have let you walk home, should have given himself time to compose his thoughts, to find the right words, to be calm and rational and mature about this. But he’d spent his whole life being calm and rational and mature, and look where it had gotten him. Standing in the shadows, watching the love of his life light up for someone else because he’d been too stupid, too silent, too scared to tell her how much she meant to him.
He stepped out from behind the tree.
You saw him immediately. Your head turned at the sound of his footsteps, and the smile—the beautiful, radiant smile you’d been wearing for Yuuta—froze on your face and then slowly, painfully, died. It was like watching a door slam shut, and Megumi felt the impact in his soul.
“Megumi,” you said, and your voice was flat. Neutral. Nothing like the bright, bubbling stream he’d just been eavesdropping on. “What are you doing here?”
He opened his mouth to say something reasonable—“I was worried about you,” or “Your phone was off,” or “Let’s go home and talk about this calmly”—but what came out instead was: “So that’s it, then. You’re going to leave me for him.”
Your eyes widened. “What?”
“Yuuta.” Megumi’s voice was shaking, and he hated it. He hated the way he couldn’t control it, the way all the fear and jealousy and self-loathing he’d been swallowing for weeks was spilling out of him like poison. “I saw you. Just now. You were so happy, talking to him. You were so… you were yourself again. And you haven’t been yourself with me in weeks. So I get it, okay? I get it. He’s better than me. He’s everything I’m not. And you deserve someone like him.”
The words hung in the air between you, ugly and raw and desperate. Megumi watched your face cycle through shock, confusion, and then—slowly, devastatingly—understanding.
“You were watching us,” you said quietly.
“I came looking for you.” He couldn’t meet your eyes anymore. He stared at the ground, at the grass, at the ants marching in a neat line across the path. “You weren’t answering your phone. I was worried. And then I saw you with him, and you were talking the way you used to talk to me, and I just… I knew. I knew you’d finally realized I’m not enough.”
“Megumi—”
“Do you know what I was thinking the whole time I watched you two?” The words kept coming. His hands were shaking at his sides. His chest was so tight he could barely breathe. “I was thinking, ‘Of course. Of course it’s Yuuta.’ Yuuta is kind and gentle and he probably never forgets to tell you how much he loves you. He probably listens to every word you say and tells you you’re brilliant and doesn’t just grunt and hope you understand. He’s affectionate and he’s sweet and he’s exactly what you need, and I’m just… I’m just me. I’m dark and quiet and broken, and I’ve always known, deep down, that someday you’d wake up and realize you could do better.”
He finally looked up at you, and the expression on your face made his heart shatter into a thousand pieces. You were crying. Silent tears were streaming down your cheeks, and you were looking at him with something that wasn’t anger or confirmation—it was heartbreak. Pure, aching heartbreak.
“Oh, Megumi,” you whispered.
He couldn’t stop. The dam was broken, and everything he’d been holding in for years was pouring out in an uncontrollable torrent. “He’s better for you. Everyone knows it. Gojo, Nobara, probably even you. Yuuta is the kind of person who deserves someone like you—someone bright and warm and full of life. I’m just the guy who told you to shut up when you were trying to help me. I’m the guy who didn’t notice you were dying inside for three whole weeks because I was too wrapped up in my own head. I’m the guy who can’t even say ‘I love you’ without feeling like I’m going to choke on it. So go ahead.” His voice cracked, and he felt the hot sting of tears in his own eyes, tears he’d been fighting for weeks, for years, for a lifetime. “If you’re going to leave me for him, just do it. I won’t stop you. I won’t fight. I just… I need to know.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Megumi stood there, trembling, his heart laid bare in the ugliest possible way, waiting for the axe to fall. He’d said it. He’d said all of it—every fear, every insecurity, every dark thought that had ever whispered in the back of his mind. And now you knew. Now you knew exactly how broken he was, exactly how little he thought of himself, exactly how terrified he’d been from the very beginning that you would leave.
You took a step toward him. Then another. And then you were right in front of him, your hands reaching up to cup his face, your thumbs brushing away the tears he hadn’t even realized had fallen.
“You absolute walnut,” you said, your voice thick with tears. “I’m not leaving you for Yuuta.”
Megumi blinked. “You’re… you’re not?”
“I’m not.” You tightened your grip on his face, forcing him to meet your eyes. “I’m not in love with Yuuta. I don’t want Yuuta. I want you, you emotionally constipated disaster of a man. I have always wanted you.”
“But you were so happy with him,” Megumi whispered, and the words came out small and broken. “You were laughing. You were talking. You were… you were yourself. And you haven’t been yourself with me in weeks. I thought… I thought you’d finally found someone who could make you happy.”
Your face crumpled. “I haven’t been myself with you because you told me to be quiet,” you said, and the words were gentle but they hit him even harder. “You told me to be quiet, and I thought… I thought you’d been holding that in our whole relationship. I thought every story I’d ever told you, every random fact, every ramble about clouds or sea slugs or whatever—I thought you’d just been enduring it. I thought my voice was a burden to you, the person I loved most in the world. So I tried to be less. I tried to be what I thought you wanted. And it was killing me, Megumi. It was killing me because I have all these things I want to tell you, all these thoughts and ideas and questions, and I couldn’t, because I was so terrified you’d look at me the way you did that night. Like I was exhausting. Like I was too much.”
Megumi felt the ground tilt beneath him. Everything you were saying—it was so much worse than he’d imagined. He’d thought you were pulling away because you’d outgrown him. He’d thought you were preparing to leave because you’d found someone better. But the truth was so much more devastating: you’d been trying to stay. You’d been contorting yourself into someone smaller, someone quieter, someone you thought he wanted, and it had been destroying you. And he’d been so blind, so self-absorbed, that he hadn’t even noticed.
“I talked to Yuuta today because I was desperate,” you continued, your voice breaking. “I’ve been drowning in silence for weeks, and he was there, and he listened. That’s it. That’s all it was. He was a life raft in the middle of an ocean I’ve been trying not to drown in. He’s not you. He’ll never be you. I don’t want a life raft. I want my person back. I want the man who makes me tea without being asked and lets me put face masks on him and sits through documentaries about nudibranchs even though he’s probably bored out of his mind. I want you, Megumi. Just you. But I need you to talk to me. Actually talk to me. With words. Out loud. So I don’t have to guess what’s going on in that beautiful, overthinking brain of yours.”
Megumi stared at you, his heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat. “You want… me? Still? Even after everything?”
“Even after everything.” You smiled, a watery, trembling smile that was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “I’m still mad at you, by the way. Very mad. ‘Can you just be quiet?’ What kind of thing is that to say to the love of your life?”
“I’m sorry.” The words came out in a rush, desperate and sincere. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I was exhausted and I was taking it out on you, and that’s not an excuse, it’s just… it’s the truth. I was drowning in my own head, and you were trying to help, and I pushed you away because I’m an idiot who doesn’t know how to accept love. I should have apologized the next morning. I should have apologized every single day for the past three weeks. I should have noticed. I should have seen that you were hurting and asked you what was wrong instead of just… assuming.”
You shook your head, still holding his face in your hands. “Don’t blame yourself. I know you love me, Megumi. But sometimes I need the words too. Sometimes I need you to tell me, out loud, that I’m not too much. That my voice isn’t a burden. That you like listening to me.”
“You’re not too much.” The words came out fierce, almost angry in their intensity. “You’ve never been too much. You’re exactly enough. You’re more than enough. Your voice is—it’s the best part of my day. Every day. When you talk to me about clouds or jellyfish or the socioeconomic implications of Roman plumbing, it’s like you’re chasing all the shadows out of my head. I’m not bored. I’m never bored. I’m just… quiet. I’ve always been quiet. But that doesn’t mean I’m not listening. That doesn’t mean I don’t love every single word.”
You were crying again, but you were smiling too, and Megumi realized with a jolt that these were good tears. Relief tears. The tears of someone who had been holding their breath for weeks and was finally, finally allowed to exhale.
“I’m sorry I compared myself to Yuuta,” he said quietly. “I just… I saw you with him, and you looked so happy, and I thought… I thought maybe he could give you something I can’t.”
“He’s not you,” you said simply. “And I don’t want someone who isn’t you. Yuuta is sweet. He’s kind. He’ll probably make some other rambling disaster of a person very happy someday. But he’s not my person. You are. You’ve always been my person.” You paused, and a mischievous glint flickered in your tear-bright eyes. “Now, I have approximately four hundred more facts to tell you, and I’ve been holding them in for three weeks, and I’m pretty sure my brain is going to explode.”
Megumi let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob, and he didn’t kiss you—not yet. Instead, he pulled you into his arms and held you as tight as he could without breaking you, burying his face in your hair and breathing you in like you were oxygen and he’d been drowning for weeks.
“Tell me,” he whispered against your temple. “Tell me everything. I’m listening. I swear I’m listening.”
“Did you know that wombats have cube-shaped poop?”
He laughed, a real laugh, startled out of him by the sheer absurdity of it. “…What?”
“It’s true! It’s so they can stack it to mark their territory without it rolling away. Nature is amazing and also deeply weird, and I have so many more where that came from. Are you ready?”
“I’m ready,” he said, and he meant it. He was ready to listen. He was ready to learn. He was ready to spend the rest of his life proving to you that your voice was the most precious thing in his world, that your words were never a burden, that he would never, ever make you feel small again.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, to take in the way the setting sun caught the tears still drying on your cheeks and turned them to gold. “I love you,” he said, and the words didn’t choke him the way they usually did. They felt right. They felt necessary. “I should have said it more. I love you and I love your voice and I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to be quiet.”
Your smile, when it came, was the sun breaking through the clouds after a storm. “I love you too, you absolute walnut.”
And then you kissed him, and he kissed you back, and the silence between you wasn’t a weapon anymore. It was a soft thing. A comfortable thing. A thing you could share together, without fear.
Later, you would walk home together, your hand in his, and you would tell him everything—the immortal jellyfish, the medieval grain storage, the flying whales, the specific shade of gray the sky turned before a storm. He would listen to every word, and he would ask questions, and he would make the right hums in the right places, and he would silently vow to spend the rest of his life being the kind of partner who deserved the gift of your voice.
But for now, there was just this: the two of you standing in the golden afternoon light, holding each other like you’d found your way home after a long and lonely journey. The sky overhead was doing that thing you loved—turning that specific shade of gray before a storm—and you’d tell him about it later. You had time. You had all the time in the world.
summary: drover misses you while droving, imagining your body against his inside his tent. you're not here, so he supposes his hand will have to do. . . (700 words)
tags: drover jerks off thinking of you, dirty talk, established relationship, breeding mention, no use of y/n, gn reader, drover fantasises about reader.
drover misses you, always misses you, but he keeps that thought to himself until he's tucked away inside the safety of his tent while on this particularly long drove. if the boys catch wind of him pining for you it'd be all over, he'd never hear the end of it. so he waits until he's alone, eyes fixed on the canvas material above him.
he thinks of you, envisions your body above him, nestled neatly into his lap right where you belong. drover swears he can almost feel you, feel the weight of your hips pushing down against his, your clothed heat throbbing with want, with need. it makes his head spin and his cock ache and, fuck, he needs you.
but you're not here. he's alone with his memories and the knowledge that you're miles and miles away, hopefully missing him too.
he wonders if you think about him, wrapped in warm sheets, head dotted with droplets of sweat, calling his name behind the palm clamped over your desperate lips as your eager hand works between your legs. . . is that what you're doing right now? teasing yourself with a touch you know will never satisfy you like he does?
are you hot for him? sweating and panting as you silently beg for his cock? how often, he wonders, do you find yourself grinding against your own palm, stealing glances at the space he used to occupy in bed?
before he knows it, he's palming himself through his boxers, coaxing his half-hard length to attention. it's not you, but it'll have to do. his tongue darts out to wet his lips, hand snaking beneath the material to give himself a squeeze.
drover paints pictures of you behind his eyelids, the curve of your body, the sweet sound you make when you moan, the warmth he feels when you wrap around him so perfectly - it creates an atmosphere so strong he swears you're really here with him.
his hand works his cock, pumping in a slow rhythm, imagining you bouncing above him with your hands planted firmly on his chest. 'that's it baby,' he'd say, 'feel good bouncin' on my cock? you miss me?'
raising his free hand towards his mouth, he bites down on a knuckle to muffle his groans. he's lost in the thought of you, the thought of fucking up into your eager hole, remembering the way you flutter around him when you get close. his thumb swipes across his sensitive tip, precum beading in anticipation of release.
god, what he wouldn't give right now to cum deep inside you. that was always his favourite part, the way you'd twitch and gasp as he fills you to the brim with his hot load. you took it so well, like you were made for him to breed you. . .
shit, his thoughts are in the gutter again, but it's easy for him to find himself there when he thinks of you.
hips rising, he finds himself bucking into his fist, a pistoning rhythm that threatens to send him over the edge. he's close, whispering your name, hoping it's quiet enough to get lost in the ambience of the still outback surrounding his tent. he imagines grabbing your hips, feeling the supple curves of your body, holding you down and filling you up.
it's all too much.
drover explodes, hot cum flooding across his chiselled tan stomach, dripping down along his hand as he works himself through his release. he gasps, head tilting back as his adam's apple bobs with every thirsty swallow. "take it, fuck. . ." he whispers under his breath, aftershocks rippling through his sensitive body.
the storm clears, the paintings of you behind his eyelids fading as he settles into the calm of the night, quelling his hunger for the time being.
but he still misses you, every day.
in a couple of weeks, drover'll finally see you again, coming home. that thought keeps him going on particularly taxing days. a smile tugs at the corner of his lips at the thought of taking you into the bedroom and showing you just how much he's missed you. what a mess he'll make of you, how he'll worship your body, litter kisses along your calf until he reaches the apex of your thighs, finding home in the body he knows as well as his own.
i want to engage in flirty banter with robb stark so bad i can feel my scalp peeling from my skull like there’s a huge ass monkey unwrapping it like a banana OOO AH AH AH OO AH AH (monkey noises in case u were wondering why i broke out into song)
cuntlips42 do you know how real this is. it was so real i had to write this
robb stark x fem!reader
━━━━━━━━━━༺✰ ━━━━━━━━━━━
you’d compare the current state of winterfell to a chicken coop when the butcher comes in wielding a blade.
the king and queen of the seven kingdoms are on their way, and nobody is spared from helping prepare to host them. the cooks are preparing a feast, lady stark is dealing with the castle, lord stark is dealing with the winter town, and all of you have been assigned different tasks. arya is helping set the mess hall, bran and rickon are with lord stark, sansa with lady stark — and you, jon, theon, and robb have been told to prepare the rooms they’ll be staying in.
you jumped at the opportunity to prepare a room for the king and queen, choosing jon to accompany you, leaving theon and robb stuck with preparing the rooms for the queens cousins. they’ll be arriving soon, meaning all of your focus is on your task at hand.
so, naturally, you’re distracted when a head of auburn hair appears in the doorway.
"Jon," robb says. "I was starting to wonder."
you and jon both share a quizzical look - you've been at this for all of ten minutes, all spent without robb. robb says your name, which makes both of your heads turn to him. "Y’can't steal Jon to capture my attention."
you catch on quickly, and your eyebrows raise in question. "Oh, I can't?" robb shakes his head, crossing his arms. "Most unladylike."
"Can't I?" a servant sheepishly moves past robb to bring the furs lady stark requested be put in the room. you take it from her with a smile, moving to drape them across the bed. "He went willingly. Tell him, Jon."
jon's long since opted to ignore your squabble, placing candles throughout the room. his head turns at the mention of his name, and he looks at you both with uncertainty, as if deciding who to side with. it seems you're in luck. "Aye."
"Traitor." robb accuses. you huff a laugh, dividing the furs into two piles. the queen and her ladies are southern through and through, and lady stark said their tolerance for the cold weather is lower than a babes. "Are you going to be of use, Robb, or have you come all this way simply to get my attention?"
he guffaws at this. "Simply?"
"Sneaking away from Theon is no simple endeavor. It takes great talent." he speaks with utmost seriousness, as if the others are on your doorstep. "You needn’t go through such effort," you say. "I'm notoriously generous.”
“For my efforts, some might say I’m deserving of my ladies favor.”
you shoot him a look; one that almost makes his knees buckle, regardless of who’s company you’re in. “Who’s to say you don’t already have it?”
you and robb hold each others gaze as he tries to muster a response. seeking out your spotlight and then becoming smitten underneath it; the jokes write themselves. fortunately for robb, the silence is soon interrupted by another voice.
"Robb!"
you, jon, and robb are in sync as you turn — met with a wide eyed theon standing in the doorway. clearly, robb is not as skilled as he thinks. "You said Lady Stark summoned you."
"She did." robb is so sincere in his response, despite your confusion, you almost believe him. you get clarity when he turns pointedly to you. your cheeks heat furiously at the implication.
jons eyes are glued to you, waiting for your reaction as his smile turns upside down in his effort to keep it at bay. theons eyes dart between you and robb in mild confusion before something clicks into place, and somehow, his eyes get even wider. theon shakes his head in disbelief.
"Grotesque…”
jon turns around as to not show the large grin on his face at theons use of words. more importantly, at the way he's never used such before, made clear by his inflection when saying it.
theon walks past robb, intentionally catching shoulders with him as he does so in some strange act of defiance. robb is quick to roll his eyes.
theon begins helping you and jon set up, which is appreciated, but with both him and robb here - that means there isnt anyone in the other room. the realization makes you sigh, knowing what must be done; sacrificing your fun for the sake of peace.
you pick up the other pile of furs, walking to robb as theon takes your place. "Come," you turn around, and make eye contact with both jon and theon. "Behave."
robb seems more than delighted at this outcome, smirking at both men as you walk past him. he walks at your side, leaning to take the furs from you.
Robb strikes me as the kind of man who loves to see you wearing Stark colors, and gets lowkey jealous if you wear your own family’s colors because you’re his now
stop because youre soooooo right. but its literally unsafe for you to wear stark colors, because anytime you do & he sees you he literally pounces. cornering you and everything, anytime anyplace, barking for the servants to leave you (dreamy sigh)
Synopsis: But somehow, you’d always felt yourself drawn to Robb the most. Almost as if there was an invisible string tying the two of you together.
calling out to all the Robb Stark fans (hopefully there’s still some of y’all left even though it’s 2024 and most of the fandom’s attention has shifted to HotD) out there:
I caved and started writing an angsty & fluffy (overly self-indulgent) friends to lovers Robb x reader fic that’ll probably turn a bit spicy at the end??
it’s going to be called invisible string and I’ll post it sometime in the next few days, once I’m finished writing!
hopefully I’ll see you soon!!
Worried, he calls out your name. „What - what are you doing here? Are you mad? You could’ve frozen to death in that thin nightgown! Here, take this!“
Ignoring your protest, he immediately takes off his thick fur coat and wraps it around you, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and drawing you into his chest in the process.
„I - I’m not - Robb, please, I’m fine!“
„Fine?“, Robb asks, raising his eyebrows, but he can’t entirely mask his evident concern for you, „you’re shivering, Princess.“
You’re so distracted by his sudden proximity that you don’t even protest the term of endearment that Robb often uses to tease you.
Using your momentary distraction to his advantage, Robb continues to admonish you. „What are you even doing out here, all alone at night? Don’t you know how dangerous it is to be walking through the woods, all by yourself-“
„I was worried about you, you idiot!“, you interrupt him, softly hitting his chest with one of your hands, finally overcoming your confusion, even though his hands on your waist and shoulders and the intensity in his bright, blue eyes still very much distract you.
[[Image ID: a quoted tweet. Original tweet is by @catacalypt on Mar 28, 2024. It contains a picture of a copper bracelet with ancient writing on it. Tweet reads “in case anyone didn’t already know I DO own a “give me my money back Ea-Nasir” bracelet in Akkadian cuneiform.” Quote tweet is by @rob_heighton on Mar 29, 2024. It reads “I wish no ill upon the owner, but the person who supplied the metal for this had the opportunity to do the funniest thing. End of image ID]]
Request: Eddard Stark second wife headcanon? ❤️❤️❤️ -m — anon
Warnings: fem!reader, heavy canon divergence, mention of dying in childbirth (not reader, no other mention of pregnancy/having children), assumed age gap? Ned stark being THE man <3
A.N: I feel like these are a little short but I actually like this one! I love Ned so much so these were also just fun to write…I hope you like them! :) also I always struggle to find more diverse gifs along these romantic lines and I’m so sorry about that, my works are always inclusive
•
You marry Ned Stark after Catelyn dies delivering Rickon, her youngest
Ned certainly did not believe that he would marry again, he was incredibly heartbroken by the death of his wife
Additionally, he now had to look after 6 children and be the Lord of Winterfell
Even though he had servants and teachers and maesters to look after his children and keep them preoccupied, he was still stretched very thin due to stress and lack of sleep
You had been a close friend to the Starks even before Robb was born; some daughter of a lesser known Northern house who had come to Winterfell for a change of scenery
Despite your lower ranking, Ned and Catelyn became close friends of yours
When Catelyn died Ned’s grief almost consumed him; but you were his light in the deep and dangerous darkness that had fallen over his life
While throughout the many years of knowing Ned you occasionally felt a spark, not love, but it certainly wasn’t platonic, you pushed it down, never rushing anything that would harm your friendship and Catelyn in particular
Becoming Ned’s second wife is a gradual process
Ned comes to you almost every day, whether it is due to his grief or to ask your opinion on something, you become even closer than you were before
It takes maybe around 2 or 3 years of mutual pining for the two of you to really acknowledge what’s going on
Robb, Jon, and Arya definitely have a hand in this, they’re old enough to see what’s going on, they certainly drop hints to the two of you
“Tell me, my Lady, why I cannot stop thinking about you…”. He takes off his gloves, just to place his rough palm gently on your cheek. “You are the first thing in my mind when I wake, and the last thing when I finally succumb to sleep.”
“Ned…”
“If you do not feel the same tell me now, before I kiss you,”
The kiss is obviously what starts it, and the wedding comes very quick after that
Ned is very protective of you
With anything
He knows how harsh the Northern wind is, so he makes sure you have the finest furs and the warmest boots
Even if you say you’re fine he will insistently add another layer onto you
He does it with a grin on his face and a kiss on the forehead
Ned loves you so much
He will also teach you how to defend yourself
He is already teaching his children so training you isn’t a problem, he doesn’t like to think about it, but he knows there might come a day where he may not be able to protect you from the evil things of Westeros (or beyond)
His kids are mostly used to you before you end up marrying him
Sansa is really the only one to have a bigger issue with her father taking a second wife but she quickly warms up to you
You know you aren’t their mother and you try not to smother them like you are, but you are protective of them as if they were your own
Ned loves watching you help them with their studies or their interests
He’s seen you sneakily teach Arya how to punch properly
And Sansa’s needlework has improved since you moved into the castle
He adores how you treat Jon no differently than the others, Catelyn always did. He doesn’t blame her, he had to lie to her, but it warms his heart to see you act so kind to him
Ned is a loving husband and he shows that to you every day
He’s always gentle towards you and respects your opinions and what you have to say
ned stark: i cheated on you please believe that! i cheated on you so hard look here’s proof of my adultery doesn’t he look just like me? that’s definitely my love child tell everyone you know
I really love the idea that Ned thinks he’s a gentle parent but like….by northern standards. He’ll be like ah I remember what this was like I can’t be as harsh as my father…..boy hostage fetch my sword I have decided you children will watch me perform a beheading instead of the traditional bloodeagle. I know I know I’m getting soft in my old age (27)
GN!Reader | Wordcount : 2.9k (each individual around 180~ words) | TWS : Mentions of death (Aragorn), choice of mortality (Lindir & Elrohir)
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𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐧
✧ Of course, Aragorn cannot let you meet his actual parents - not if he’s never known them that well himself - but he can introduce you to the people he calls family.
✧ Although he does not end up asking either of his brothers for advice, they know about his crush before he ends up confessing to you.
✧ Elrohir finds it lovely that their Estel has found someone, and you seem a perfect match for him, and Elladan is also happy for his younger brother.
✧ In fact, Elrohir does try to speed up the process, flirting with you in a joking manner. It isn't entirely helpful but still makes him laugh when he sees Aragorn there with you - trying to decide between not intervening and being protective, instead just hovering over you and attending to your needs.
✧ Merry and Pippin still end up being the ones to have definitive proof of your relationship, although Elrohir is quick to pop up and establish the rumour as truth.
✧ Aragorn can tell something is going on the second he sees his foster brother come over to him with a too-wide grin, before pulling him into a hug. “So, you and them, hmm?”
✧ One wholly mature push and conversation later, and you walk in just in time to see the two give a scowl before Elrohir announces that he wishes your relationship well.
✧ Apologising for him, Aragorn says he hopes that slightly eccentric in-laws will not put you off anything, and you confirm it won’t.
✧ It’s much more unnerving to be in front of the Lord of Rivendell with your relationship, but it’s also surprisingly painless. It also helps that Aragorn is holding your hand the entire time.
✧ (Aragorn does tell his parents about you, in a way. Speaking to his mothers grave about you - the traits he loves about you, the way you make him smile. He knows you will never meet, but something in his heart feels they have approved.)
𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬
✧ Unfortunately, Legolas is the only one who’s family is actually disapproving of you.
✧ It isn’t entirely personal, Thranduil would look critically upon any who would want to court his son, but the fact that you are human certainly does not help.
✧ The fact that when you come to tell him rumours have already reached do not help.
✧ “So, you are trying to be the Beren of this age?” Thranduil’s voice is cold as you bow to him, “Yet you seem to be even less worthy than him.”
✧ Before the words fully sink in Legolas goes to your defence. You supposed he would go to your involvement in the Fellowship, but he does not. Instead he defends his love for you.
✧ Not for your deeds or previous actions, but the way you make him feel. That no-one else could make him smile like you do, or give the light to his days in the same manner. You are the one his heart has chosen.
✧ You can feel your face heating up throughout the speech, already embarrassed from the scrutiny.
✧ But when Thranduil’s gaze comes upon you again, it seems less judging. “Tell me, do you truly love my son?”
✧ The question takes you by surprise, but you confirm your answer. That of course you do.
✧ There’s another second of silence before he meets your gaze. “You will treat him well.”
✧ Eventually, Thranduil does warm to you - taking care of you, and making sure your needs are met. It’s mostly a subtle way of caring, but once you know it’s obvious.
✧ A few heirlooms of the woodland realm will become yours as well.
𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐨
✧ As an opposite, Bilbo is probably one of the biggest supporters of your relationship.
✧ Although he didn’t mean to start it when he invited you to dinner all that time ago, he certainly doesn’t discourage any of your relationship.
✧ Almost as soon as you’re arrived the stars appear in his nephew's eyes, and he’s left to laugh at the wonder of young love.
✧ Not-so-subtly gives Frodo advice about what to do, how he’s seen you looking at flowers recently - and they do look lovely at this time. Maybe they’d make a good gift?
✧ Has also slipped away for a meal or two, eating in the pantry, so the two of you could be left alone.
✧ Of course he denies this, if asked.
✧ After Frodo confesses you actually ask his permission to court Frodo, to which he looks between the two of you and laughs.
✧ “Only a complete fool wouldn’t see what the two of you have together. It is far beyond me to separate two in love.”
✧ (Frodo also apologises about having the Sackville-Baggins as eventual relatives, with surprising sincerity. At least the two of you can suffer together.)
𝐒𝐚𝐦
✧ All of Sam’s family (all eight of them) are very supportive of your relationship.
✧ Surprisingly, he’s the first of them to find a partner - and so they all make a big deal of it.
✧ There’s also a fair bit of teasing, and Sam is one of the youngest of the family.
✧ They’re all of the opinion you’re a perfect match - and if he’s happy, they’re happy.
✧ After they come around Sam apologises if they were a bit too much.
✧ “They don’t mean to frighten you off, love. They’re just excited. I’ve told them about how much I love you, and I think they’re simply happy with how happy you’ve made me.”
𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲
✧ Warns you that he’s an only child, and as such his parents are quite… enthusiastic.
✧ “If you ever get too overwhelmed, just tap me. I’ll scream, create a distraction, and you escape in the commotion.”
✧ Despite the big deal Merry makes it everything goes very well.
✧ They’re both very friendly, but Merry is happy to take the brunt of the questioning if needed - as well as always taking the pressure off you.
✧ Both Saradoc and Esmeralda express how happy they are that Merry is finally growing up and finding someone, how you’ve given him that much needed maturity, and-
✧ Merry is quick to interrupt them, but he can’t quite hide the blush that's appeared on his face.
𝐏𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧
✧ When you finally start to return to the Shire, Pippin isn’t sure what will be harder to explain. The fact he’s been missing for around a year and can’t really speak about it, or the fact he’s courting an elf.
✧ He tries to reassure you by talking about the line of Took’s that he already comes from - how people are pretty sure there’s some fairy, or at least that’s how rumours go, so they really shouldn’t be too surprised by an elf.
✧ Very proud to introduce you to his parents and his siblings, practically singing your praises the entire time.
✧ They are at first… bemused. It’s not everyday you see an elf, let alone when your youngest son brings home an elf and declares a courtship.
✧ Still, the Tooks are very welcoming to you - and so happy that the two of you are together.
✧ (“Of course you’d end up going for an elf, Peregrin.”)
✧ They do tease him. Quite a lot. But it’s also clear it’s in good faith.
✧ Constantly apologising for the fact you have to stoop, and you have to keep reassuring them that it’s expected hobbit architecture isn’t built with you in mind.
𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐫
✧ As essentially Faramir’s second-in-command, Faramir is of course very approving of your relationship.
✧ Sometimes jokes that it’s all secretly a plot from the two of you for the rangers to gain more military influence.
✧ It makes the three of you laugh, although sometimes both of you will say it with slightly too deadpan a look. And then there’s a silence as the three of you stare for a second.
✧ (This also makes Faramir one of the best people to ask for advice. And eventually Boromir allows himself to get advice from his younger brother, even if it’s just your favourite flower.)
✧ Denethor is a little more awkward to convince.
✧ You’d met the Steward twice, both in military meetings staunchly on Faramir’s side, and the relationship can be described as frosty at best.
✧ After you are formally introduced as Boromir’s partner the Steward asks to speak to his eldest son alone, to which Boromir refuses.
✧ Stating that he is glad his father cares about him, but he will not listen to advice on the matter of his heart.
✧ That he knows who he loves - and that person is you.
✧ And even his Lord cannot command his heart.
𝐅𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐫
✧ Boromir is very supportive of the two of you. Not quite aggressively supportive, but absolutely ready to defend either of you and your honour.
✧ When Faramir says he’s dating you he doesn’t miss the way his older brother’s eyes light up, proclaiming that he’s proud of him - and he’d like to meet you.
✧ When you finally need to be introduced to Denethor, both of the brothers are by your side.
✧ Your hand is in Faramir’s - although you aren’t sure which of the two of you is gripping the other harder.
✧ To your surprise Denethor accepts the two of you courting rather quickly, expressing he is glad that Faramir has been able to find someone.
✧ You hear the subtext under it, but keep your tongue. And then immediately comment on it once the two of you are gone.
✧ Faramir is just happy it went well, and implores you not be too discouraged. That his father could forbid him from seeing you again and he still would.
✧ That your love means much more to him than so many things in this world, least of all his father’s approval.
𝐄𝐨𝐰𝐲𝐧
✧ Éomer and Théoden both notice Éowyn’s feelings for you before she does. They watch it fade from Aragorn, and then come back even stronger with you.
✧ And this time they get to watch you fall in love with her as well.
✧ If she had been aware of her feelings, Éomer probably would have teased her about it - but he wants to wait until she has realised.
✧ That time comes when he sees her with your sword a second time, his gaze looking downwards and then looking up to his sister. “It is fine steel. And a finer choice.”
✧ She tries to deny it, but he laughs - attempting to ruffle her hair - saying he approves, and that if anything happens he’ll defend her honour.
✧ Éowyn simply responds that she trusts you’d never do something like that. And even if she did, she could defend her honour by herself.
𝐄𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫
✧ Éowyn takes the crown for the most supportive family member, setting the two of you up on your first date.
✧ When Éomer finally takes you home after it, he can’t take his eyes off you. It is only once you finally leave then he becomes aware of eyes on him.
✧ Turning around, Éomer realises that his sister is staring at him with a knowing grin. She gives a small curtsey to him, “You’re welcome, brother.”
✧ The statement makes him laugh, but he does sincerely thank her.
✧ Because without her interference - he would not have you.
✧ Meeting Éowyn the next day she shares a grin with you, saying that she hopes you and Éomer will enjoy your time together. And that she truly thinks you are a good match, a match that will both survive but also go far.
✧ Éomer does inform his uncle of you - asking for permission for your courting - and this is given freely by Théoden.
✧ The next time you see your king he congratulates you on your courting. It is a small gesture but it seems to genuine, head dipped in respect and appreciation.
𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐝
✧ All of Bard’s kids love you - and all of them knew before he did (although Tilda didn’t truly understand what the interest between you means).
✧ Sigrid is the most supportive - she respects you for the job you do, thinks you’re fairly cool, and also feels slightly bad that the first time you met she got you in jail.
✧ She’s probably the one who interacts with you least, but it just comes from her being older.
✧ Although she and Bain still love to tease Bard.
✧ It gets better, but the first few times that Bard is romantic with you - and the kids are within eyeshot - they’ll either fake wretches or whistling. He always laughs them off, and then grin before asking the two of you to get a room.
✧ Bain and Tilda both like you a lot, and are more willing to spend time with you - although Bain asks more nicely.
✧ Bard does make it clear you have no responsibilities to them, but you assure him it’s fine. After all the kids are respectful, and never too overwhelming when you do spend time with them.
𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐢𝐥
✧ Legolas is still too young to fully understand what’s going on when the two of you first get together, so you try not to be too romantic in front of him.
✧ He also doesn’t really understand the concept of you wanting to keep it secret, so will do things like tugging on his fathers robes and asking why Ada’s been staring at you all day instead of him.
✧ At first it makes you laugh, especially to finally see the elvenking flustered, although it gets less funny when he does it to you.
✧ Overall, Legolas is more than happy to accept you into the family - even if he gets confused at times.
✧ Thranduil also stresses that he doesn’t expect you to deal with Legolas, but makes it clear he will be a father for his son.
✧ You always reassure him that you love the both of them - and you certainly wouldn’t leave Thranduil over this.
✧ As he grows up and understands Legolas is just as supportive, although this time he actually realises what he’s supporting.
✧ Revels in the fact he’s the only one who can truly tease Thranduil about his love for you.
𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐫
✧ Like most elven families would be, they’re more than a bit cynical when they discover that their child is courting a mortal human.
✧ However, they’re much more accepting than you would have mentioned.
✧ In fact - Lindir is almost more nervous than you are.
✧ You can so clearly tell he wants everything to go well, and it’s honestly adorable.
✧ When he finally introduces you to each other you can see the hope and nerves in his eyes, and watch it slowly melt away as you all begin to get to know each other.
✧ Afterwards, you ask why he was so nervous and he confesses he doesn’t know.
✧ “I suppose, I simply wanted the most important things to like each other. Almost as much as I love you.”
𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐫
✧ Both of Haldir’s brothers, Rúmil and Orophin, are with him when you first meet him. And both have rather mixed opinions about your first impressions.
✧ Rúmil is, understandably, frosty about the first thing you did when you saw his brother was to almost shoot him. Orophin is, understandably, amused about the fact that’s the first thing you did.
✧ Eventually, once he’s been around you enough and you’ve continued to apologise, Rúmil forgives you - and the two of you get on better terms.
✧ When the Fellowship finally leaves Lothlórien you’re on good terms with them, and they’re sad to see you go.
✧ They’re also the first to see Haldir pining over you, and recognise it.
✧ When you finally go back to Lothlórien they’re quick to congratulate you - before you even say.
✧ Seeing your confusion they simply laugh, before exchanging a glance from you to Haldir.
✧ “Everyone can see his eyes light up when he looks at you.”
𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐧
✧ Long ago, it was Elrond who had introduced the two of you - although his foresight hadn’t quite foreseen what the two of you would become.
✧ He does quickly, however, see the way his son lights up when he sees you. That the otherwise introverted Elladan would rise from his seat to greet you with a wide smile, the two of you instantly starting to talk for hours on end.
✧ Elrond is in no way surprised the two of you finally realised your feelings for each other, he’s just surprised it took you this long.
✧ Elrohir - knowing the two of you - is not surprised that it takes the two of you so long to confess to each other.
✧ It is a fact that makes him both laugh and want to claw his eyes out. Everyone except the two of you can so clearly see your love for each other.
✧ Pushing the two of you into a cupboard is one of his more genius ideas, so of course he’s not at all surprised it works. At all.
✧ (The whistle that comes with the two of you emerging from there together definitely isn’t him, either.)
𝐄𝐥𝐫𝐨𝐡𝐢𝐫
✧ You actually end up approaching Elladan before his twin confesses to you, although you are seeking his advice about love.
✧ Privately, Elladan finds it (darkly) amusing that both of his siblings have fallen deeply in love with Gondorian nobles.
✧ (This is a sentiment shared by all his siblings, that they try very hard to keep from their father.)
✧ He’s good in answering your questions, and reassures him that Elrohir’s not actually this annoying - only somewhat - and he’s simply pining over you.
✧ Aragorn very much approves of your relationship, and he’s a helpful friend in accepting Elrohir’s choice of mortality. There’s a quiet companionship between the two of you, and he’s finally found someone to share his worries with.
✧ Despite what he wants to feel, Elrond can see you’re the perfect one for his son.
✧ And after spending so long fighting it with Arwen, he is more ready to accept it with you.
✧ You still remember seeing the light in Elrohir’s eyes as he comes running up to you, eyes shining with a smile.
✧ “I told you he’d have to accept you! I knew our love was going to be that obvious.”
✧ (Also holds this victory above Arwen’s head for a little too long.)
A/N : Sorry for this being late... hopefully it was still enjoyable! To make up for the lack of romance next one shall be their first 'I love you' - so look forward to it. Also thank you so much for passing 200 followers! When I first made this I didn't think I would even get fifty, so seriously thank you all! Love you guys <3
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