#i hope he’s taking care of himself and i hope he knows he’s allowed as much time to process as he needs

[lechrts]

Die For You. ✷ Lando Norris

Pairing: Lando Norris x Friend!reader

Summary: When he’s the only one that’s allowed to pick on you. (And unfortunately someone else picks on you, and it backfires.)

Word Count: 1.1k

Disclaimer/s: fluff… kinda… defensive!Lando 👅. A tad bit of body shaming i fear …

Vera’s Voice! hi Enya. For U. i hope i did this justice.

The bar was alive with laughter and music, and you were perched at the counter, sipping on your favorite fruity cocktail. As usual, Lando couldn’t resist making a comment the moment he saw you.

“Another one?” He said, sauntering up next to you with a smug grin. “What is that now? Your third? Fourth?“ He grinned with a small pause.

“Be careful. We can’t afford to have you tumbling like a drunk mess in the streets later.”

You glared at him, already irritated. “I can handle myself, and this is my second drink. Thank you very much.” A scoff and eye roll emitted from your body.

“Yeah, right,” He replied, his grin widening. “Say that again when you inevitably start slurring your words and crying about how much you hate tequila.”

“Ha. Funny.” You deadpanned.

“I’m serious,” He pressed, leaning on the counter with a quirked brow and stupid smile. “You’re a lightweight. One more of those, and you’re topless on a counter.”

You scoffed, taking another sip of your drink just to spite him. “And I’m sure you’d enjoy that.”

“Maybe so,” He fired back with a sheepish shrug. “But I’m just looking out for you,” Another wink.

Before you could respond, one of Lando’s mates—you couldn’t remember his name, they weren’t that close honestly—wandered over, clearly overhearing the exchange.

“Seriously,” He said, his eyes scanning the glass in your hand. “Another sugary monstrosity? You know that stuff makes you bloat, right?”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. You froze, the insult hanging in the air as your self-consciousness surged.

“And for the record,” He continued, smirking like he’d just delivered the joke of the century, “It’s not exactly flattering. Just saying.”

Lando’s head snapped toward him so fast it was almost comical. But there was nothing funny about the deadly look on his face.

“What’d you say?” Lando’s voice was low and ice-cold, a tone you’d never heard from him before as her quirked a brow with a repulsed look.

His friend blinked, caught off guard. “Just telling your friend here that she’s gonna get fat if she continues drinking all that—“

Lando cut him off with a light shove, almost like it was a warning for him to shut up

“Relax, mate. I was just jok—”

“Yeah? Well, it wasn’t funny,” He cut him off sharply, now stepping forward to put himself in front of you. “Who even says that? You think that’s funny?”

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” The guy stammered, clearly starting to regret opening his mouth.

“Doesn’t matter,” Lando snapped. “You don’t talk to her like that. Ever. Got it?”

“Alright, chill, mate. I didn’t know she was off-limits or whatever.”

“Off-limits?” Lando repeated, his voice rising. “She’s not off-limits, she’s just better than your pathetic attempts at humor. So why don’t you piss off.”

The guy muttered something under his breath before walking away, leaving the two of you standing in tense silence.

“Lando…” You started, but he turned to face you before you could say more.

His expression softened as he ran a hand through his hair. “I hope you don’t believe a word he said.“

You swallowed hard, still feeling the sting of the comment but touched by Lando’s protectiveness. “Thanks for…that,” You said quietly.

“I mean it,” Lando said, stepping closer. “I know I’m a prick but it’s all in good fun.” A pause. “I also never make comments about your appearance.. considering you’re gorgeous…” He trailed off, his sly way of sneaking in a compliment making you slightly blush.

You huffed out a small laugh, your lips twitching into a faint smile. “I don’t know what’s more shocking: that you just defended me or that you actually said something nice for once.”

“Don’t get used to it,” He said, his usual smirk creeping back.

“Of course,” You muttered, rolling your eyes. “Who else will tell me I’m stupid every second they can?”

“Only me,” He added, his tone more serious. “No one else gets to. Not like that.”

You looked up at him, his sincerity catching you off guard. “Deal.”

And just like that, the teasing and bickering was back—but this time, you couldn’t help but feel a little safer, knowing Lando had your back.

likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated! ^_^ and pls Lmk if you wanna be apart of my permanent tag list

tags! @planetpedri @halfwayhearted @wdcbox @freyathehuntress @iovepoem @piastri-fvx

[yeomongi]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠 — 𐙚

genre: fluff!!!

pairing: hongjoong x you

word count: ~1k

warnings: one or two quick kiss scenes, emotional distress, joongie is hurt :( no proofread

synopsis: hongjoong comes home injured, frustrated and feeling useless. y/n cares for him, offering love and comfort, showing him it’s okay to lean on someone else.

note: this was so cute i’m so happy w how it turned out!! this was also a request, i hope it’s what anon meant but im not fully sure if i understood correctly 😭 reblogs and interactions appreciated! <3

hongjoong had always been the kind of person to push himself too hard. you knew that the moment you met him. his passion burned bright, almost too bright, like a star on the verge of exploding. it’s what you admired about him, but it’s also what worried you the most.

he’d come home after the tour leg, his arm wrapped in a sling and an apologetic smile playing on his lips. “it’s nothing serious,” he said, his voice soft but firm, trying to reassure you before you could even ask. “just a small sprain. i tripped backstage.”

but the way he winced when you gently helped him out of his coat told you otherwise.

“joong, a sprain doesn’t look like this,” you murmured, carefully unbuttoning his sleeve to examine the swelling on his wrist. his skin was an angry shade of purple, the kind that made your chest ache just looking at it. “why didn’t you say something sooner?”

he shrugged with his good shoulder, his eyes avoiding yours. “i didn’t want to worry you. or the members. or… anyone, really.”

you sighed, the sound heavy with frustration and affection. “you’re unbelievable.”

he chuckled weakly, letting you lead him to the couch. “i know.”

from that moment, it was a constant battle to get him to rest. hongjoong was restless by nature, always scribbling in his notebook, tinkering with his music, or running off to meetings. the injury didn’t stop him from trying to do all of it, even with one hand.

“y/n, i can handle it,” he said one evening when you caught him trying to hold his laptop with his injured arm. you didn’t say anything at first, just crossed the room and gently took the device from his hands, setting it aside.

“you can’t handle it if you don’t give yourself time to heal,” you said softly, crouching down in front of him. his lips parted like he wanted to argue, but when he saw the look in your eyes, he deflated.

“i just feel useless,” he admitted quietly, his head hanging low. “there’s so much to do, and i’m just… sitting here.”

your heart broke a little at the way his voice cracked. you reached up, cupping his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing against his cheeks. his skin was warm beneath your fingertips, and you felt him lean into your touch almost instinctively.

“you’re not useless, hongjoong,” you said firmly, but your voice softened when his gaze flicked to yours, vulnerable and uncertain. “you’re human. you’re allowed to take a break.”

for a moment, he just stared at you, his lips parting as if to speak. but then, instead of answering, he leaned forward—tentatively, hesitantly, like he was testing the waters. your breath caught when his lips brushed against yours, featherlight and shy.

it was so un-hongjoong, so unlike the confident man you were used to, but it made your chest ache in the best way. you kissed him back, just as soft, your hands slipping to the nape of his neck as you pulled him closer.

when you finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his eyes fluttering shut as he exhaled shakily. “thank you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “for everything.”

—

you made it your mission to take care of him after that. you’d help him with the little things, like tying his shoelaces or pouring his tea, even though he’d grumble about being babied. but he never stopped you. in fact, you’d catch him watching you with this soft, grateful smile that made your heart skip every time.

nights were your favorite, though. hongjoong would let his guard down completely then, curling up beside you on the couch while you ran your fingers through his hair. he’d hum softly, the sound vibrating against your side, and you’d feel the tension slowly leave his body.

“you’re too good to me,” he mumbled one night, his voice muffled against your shoulder.

“you deserve it,” you replied, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

he didn’t say anything after that, but the way he clung to you, his fingers curling around the hem of your shirt, said more than words ever could.

—

it wasn’t easy, of course. there were days when he was irritable, snapping at you over the smallest things, only to apologize profusely minutes later. “i’m sorry, y/n,” he’d say, his voice small and heavy with guilt. “i’m just… frustrated.”

“i know,” you’d reply, pulling him into a hug despite his initial resistance. “it’s okay. i get it.”

and you did. you understood how much it hurt him to feel like he couldn’t do what he loved, like he was letting everyone down. but you also knew he needed to let himself be vulnerable, to let someone else carry the weight for once.

slowly but surely, he started to heal—not just physically, but emotionally, too. he let you take care of him without protest, and in return, he took care of you in the little ways he could. like leaving you sticky notes on the fridge with messages like “don’t forget to eat <3” or making you playlists filled with songs he knew you’d love.

—

“you’re the best, you know that?” he said one afternoon, his voice warm and genuine as he watched you carefully bandage his wrist.

you laughed softly, shaking your head. “you’re just saying that because i’m your personal nurse right now.”

“no, i mean it,” he insisted, his eyes locking onto yours. “i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

the sincerity in his voice made your cheeks flush, and you looked away, focusing on securing the bandage. “well, lucky for you, you don’t have to find out.”

he grinned at that, reaching out with his good hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “lucky for me, indeed.”

and in that moment, with his fingers brushing against your skin and his eyes shining with affection, you realized just how much you meant to each other. no matter how many times life knocked him down, you’d always be there to pick him back up—and he’d do the same for you.

because that’s what love was. it wasn’t perfect or easy, but it was worth it. and with hongjoong, it always would be.

[missdynamighttt]

Hii, I hope you had a very happy holiday and that you are well, I love the way you write! I would like to ask you for something half anguish half soft and whatever you want to add some other thing even if it is spicy.. Something where both the reader and Katsuki are both pro-heroes, The reader tries to take good care of himself during missions and avoids getting hurt so that Katsuki doesn't worry (go crazy about it) But Katsuki doesn't do the same and almost always ends up hurt and worrying the reader and this makes her upset by his lack of reciprocity.. They end up fighting for a moment but end up reconciling. I hope it's not too much to ask, bye, kisses🙏

hi hun!! hope you had a very happy holiday too<333 that means SO much to me, thank you lots!! its not too much at all, i hope this met your expectations and i hope you enjoy it. byeee, kisses <333 (disclaimers: handjob in a hospital, nipple play, mentions of breeding kink, calls you mommy, switch katsuki (gets really subby in the end))

katsuki was on his bed in the infirmary, covered in bandages and scratches. he had gotten himself injured again during a battle with a villain.

you walked into the room, face filled with anger and concern. you quickly made your way towards his bed and looked at him, obviously frustrated.

"my fucking god, katsuki.."

katsuki looked at you with a mixture of annoyance and guilt. he knew he had upset you by getting injured again this badly but that didn't matter to him.

"what? i'm fine."

you tried to blink back your tears as they threatened to escape, lips curled into a stubborn frown. "you look anything but fine."

katsuki rolled his eyes, still trying to act nonchalant about his injuries. "i've had worse. you know that. i'll heal up in no time."

he huffed slightly as he attempted to shift his position on the bed, causing a small wave of pain to shoot through him, but too stubborn to show you his signs of pain.

"we have the same damn job," you snapped, holding his arm and helping him up. your eyes narrowed, words filled with irritation and worry. but you don't see me acting like a reckless idiot, do you? i may get a few scrapes and bruises, but i don't look like I've just stumbled out of a warzone."

"i'm not acting reckless. 'm just doing my damn job," katsuki grumbled as he grudgingly allowed you to help him. "and besides, you're always avoiding getting hurt. you never take any risks, so it's no fuckin' surprise you don't get hurt."

you widened your eyes at him in disbelief, shaking your head in frustration. "no risk?"

"yeah, no risk. you always play it safe, you never take any chances, you always avoid fighting any shitty villains that might be too damn dangerous..." katsuki trails off, noticing the look on your face and realizing that he might've struck a nerve.

"playing it safe? is that what you assume i do to prioritize my fucking life?" you let out a scoff of disbelief, lips twisting up in a sarcastic smile. "is that what you think I do when I try to protect myself, so that you don't have to add my name to your growing list of worries?"

katsuki's expression softened slightly. he knew deep down that she was right, but he wasn't ready to admit it.

"it's not about that. it's about getting the job done. sometimes that means taking risks."

"excuse you. i get the job done just fine. at least i don't look like i've been trampled on by a hundred fucking bulls."

"yeah, well, at least i'm not afraid to get my hands dirty."

katsuki knew that was a low blow even as he said it, but his pride was too wounded to backtrack now.

your emotions finally breaking through the facade of toughness as you bit your bottom lip, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill.

"damn it, katsuki," your voice cracked slightly. "all i'm asking is to keep yourself safe. do you even realize how much it hurts me, seeing you injured over and over again, knowing i can't do anything about it? its like.. you don't care. then you go ahead and insult how i do my job and..."

kasuki's expression softened further as he saw the tears in your eyes. he knew he messed up.

"sweets, i... i didn't mean what i said. you're great, okay? the damn best. i just.. wanna do my damn job. i don't want to hold back and let someone get away with shit because i was being too careful."

you let out a huff of frustration, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand.

"doing your job properly doesn't mean throwing your life away, katsuki. what if something happens again, and.."

your pause as tears welled up your eyes, finally rolling down your cheeks like a waterfall. you tried to wipe them away, movements aggressive as your sniffles growing louder despite the attempts to keep them silent.

katsuki watched as you wiped away your tears, guilt gnawing at him. it was a sight that never failed to clench his heart. he reached out and gently gripped your arm, pulling you closer by the edge of the bed. "hey, c'mon. don't... cry, dammit."

"i'll be fine, i always do," he continued, his voice softer than usual. he crooks his finger to tilt your head up at his gaze. "even if i look like i got trampled on by a hundred fuckin' bulls."

he repeated your words back to you with a small grin. you huffed when you realized he was trying to lighten the mood, giving his arm a gentle nudge as you pouted at him.

"i... i can't lose you. not again, katsuki," you sniffled, lower lip trembling slightly as you kept your emotions in check. "okay?"

katsuki's smirk faded as he heard the raw vulnerability in your voice, the memories flooding his brain back when he almost lost his...

"sweets... i'm not going anywhere, okay?" he repeated, his voice serious now. "i promise." he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace.

you huff, calming down in his arms a little as you appreciate the warmth of his embrace and the sound of his steady breathing.

meanwhile, katsuki held you close, feeling your body relax against his. with a sigh, he buries his face in your hair, taking solace in the feeling of your in his arms. he hated seeing you upset, and he hated himself for being the cause of it.

"i'm sorry."

"hmph. you better be."

you sigh as katsuki chuckled slightly, the feeling of your fingers in his hair sending a shiver down his spine.

"i am. i won't be so reckless next time. i'll be more careful, i promise."

"if you don't?"

"if i don't? what, you'll come kick my ass yourself?"

"katsuki."

katsuki takes a deep breath before letting out a long sigh, looking up and his gaze fixed on you.

"if i don't..." he begins, tucking a strand of hair behind your hair. "i just won't. i don't want to put you through that again. i'll keep my word. for you, sweets. okay?"

you nod, your pout giving way to a more relaxed expression as you sank deeper into his embrace. you were a little more relaxed now that he gave you the reassurance you needed. he just needed to recover, and then—

you suddenly felt a slight shiver run through your body as you register the feeling of katsuki's lips on your neck.

katsuki grins when he noticed your slight surprise, continuing to place soft kisses along your neck, pausing occasionally to nibble on your earlobe.

"you worry too much, you know that?" he whispered in between kisses.

"only because i care about you..." you breathe, your voice a little breathless as you leaned into his touch. you really, really couldn't hide the effect his touch had on you.

katsuki's smirk returned as he heard you gasp, the sound sending a wave of heat through his body. he moved his mouth to your jawline, trailing kisses along your skin.

"i know you care about me," he murmured, his breath warm against her skin. "and as much as i love seein' you get all feisty when you're worried about me... i promise i'll be more careful from now on."

"okay...good," you hum softly as he continued peppering kisses down your body. "glad we.. cleared that up."

katsuki chuckles, his lips still against your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "yeah, we did."

you had to bite your bottom lip when he moved his lips, nipping at your collarbone. "and now that we have that settled..."

"there's somethin' else i'd like to do."

your eyes widened in surprise as you realized what he was hinting at, heat spreading across your cheeks. "w-wait—"

katsuki grinned again when he noticed how bashful you were getting. he loved it when he could get you all flustered like this.

"what?" his lips hovering near your ear. "you don't want to?"

you shook your head, your desire warred with concern. there was a part of you that wanted to give in to the moment, but practical senses prevailed. he was still recovering from his injuries, and you weren't about to risk his health for an orgasm.

"i..." you began, voice shaky with a mixture of desire and reluctance. "yes, i want to... but not here. and not while you're still recovering, dammit."

katsuki pouted slightly, clearly disappointed. but as much as he hated to admit it, he knew you were right.

"tch, fine. but don't blame me if i start goin' crazy from recovery boredom."

he paused, a sly smirk appearing on his face. "although... i could think of a few ways you could keep me entertained while i recover."

you tilt your head with a raised eyebrow. "like?"

"well... you could start by just cuddlin' with me while i rest," he teased, his voice low and suggestive, tugging you closer to the bed so that you could cuddle him. "or maybe you could give me a few kisses here and there... you know, to help me heal faster."

"oh?" you smile, scooting over the bed and snuggling up to him. "did the doctor approve of that?"

"doctors are overrated," he says in mock-offense as he wraps an arm around you. "they all say the same things. rest and fluids, blah, blah, blah. where's the fun in that?"

"besides..." he leaned in closer with a grin, his voice dropping to a whisper. "who needs a doctor's approval when i have a beautiful woman like you to take care of me?"

you scoff, nudging his arm softly and roll your eyes, running your fingers through his hair. "as much as i'd love to take care of you, i'm scared we might get caught."

"what, afraid of getting caught in the act?" he asked with a mischievous grin. "come on, it'll be fun."

he could tell you were still reluctant. so, he pulled you even closer, his hands roaming up your hips and resting on your waist, his lips brushing your ear when he spoke. "we'll be discreet, i promise. just a few kisses... no one will ever know."

"i'd rather if you just focus on recovering."

"a few kisses ain't gonna set me back. i'm fine, sweets. i heal fast, remember?"

"then, if you heal fast, i doubt you need me to kiss you, right?"

"you think i can't handle a few kisses, is that it?"

you grin at his pout and shrug. "i think you can't. because then you're going to take it too far."

katsuki rolled his eyes, mock-offended. "i have no idea what you're talkin' about. i'm a saint."

he leaned back against the pillows, narrowing his eyes at your reluctant gaze and giggles. "besides, i'm in no condition to do anything strenuous right now. a few innocent kisses won't hurt."

you huff, exhaling in a soft sigh as your pout deepens. your eyes flicker to his, searching for any kind of reassurance. you didn't want to set back his recovery by going too far but who were you to deny him the kisses he needs? "you promise?"

"a few innocent kisses, that's it. no funny business, no getting carried away," he paused, reaching out to take your hand, his thumb tracing circles on the back of her hand. "just a few little kisses to keep me entertained while i recover."

after a moment, you gave in with a sigh, nodding in reluctant agreement.

"fine..." you muttered, your tone a little sulky.

but your gaze flickered to him, your narrowed eyes meeting his with a hint of heat. slowly, you lean in closer, your breath catching in your throat as you prepare to initiate the kiss.

katsuki grins as he tilted his head slightly to meet you halfway, his eyes closing in anticipation.

"that's more like it," he murmured, his voice low and sultry.

katsuki reached up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb tracing soft circles along your skin as he closed the distance between your lips.

the moment your lips met his, he let out a soft sigh, wrapping his arms around you as he deepened the kiss. it was slow and gentle, a stark contrast to the usual.. passionate embraces.

but the kiss deepens and katsuki starts to get lost in the moment, you can feel him getting more aggressive and intense. sensing that he's starting to lose control, you give his bicep a gentle but firm squeeze, signaling him to slow down. it acts like an anchor, reminding him to keep his desire in check.

katsuki feels your squeeze on his bicep and realizes that he's getting carried away. he breaks the kiss, panting for air as he tries to regain control of himself.

he looks at you with dilated eyes, his chest rising and falling heavily. "f-fuck.. 'm sorry.. i got carried away..."

you chuckle breathlessly, your own heart racing. you try to reassure him with a soft, affectionate smile on your lips. "it's okay... i liked it."

"damn it. me too. maybe a little too much," he sighs, glancing down at himself and groans at the tent in his pants. "fuck, you're not making this easy. you know how hard it is for an injured pro-hero like me to resist his gorgeous girl? and i'm supposed to be recovering, remember?"

"oh? who insisted on the kisses, smartass?"

"hey, you're the one who agreed to it."

"weirdo," you tease, poking his side gently. "want me to..?"

katsuki's breathing hitches at you looking down at his lap. he knew he should resist. he needed to recover. but the sight of you, looking at his raging boner, and imagining what you'd look like taking care of it, is almost too much for him to handle.

"don't tease me like that, woman. you know what the answer is."

you glance down to admire the obvious tent in his pants, the evidence of his desires clear as day. you can't help but bite your bottom lip, feeling a sudden rush of heat as something aches in between your legs.

"okay," you whisper, reaching down for the waistband of his pants. "just keep quiet f'me, okay?"

katsuki nods, his eyes locked on you as you reach for underneath his boxers. he feels his breath catch in his throat, his body tensing in anticipation.

"yeah.." he breathes, his voice strained. "i'll be quiet..."

katsuki watches as you touch him, his eyes darkened with desire as he feels your hand wrap around his cock, his body already responding to your touch.

"fuck... fuck, you're so hot.." he manages to say, his voice hoarse and gravelly.

you laugh softly, looking up at him, thumbing the tip of his cock thats leaking with pre. "yeah? you think i'm hot, katsuki?"

"mhm.. so hot.." he nods, his breath coming in ragged pants. he closes his eyes, his head falling back against the pillows as he sinks further into the bed. "f-fuck.. feels so good.. keep goin', sweets, fuck.."

katsuki's hips instinctively buck up into your touch, trying to get even more friction. he grips the sheets, his knuckles turning white as he struggles to keep himself quiet.

you chuckle breathlessly, biting down your bottom lip as you slowly fuck your fist on his cock, purposefully slowing down. "you're not keeping quiet, katsuki. what if someone hears us, hm?"

"fuck, you can't do that to me.. don't tease me like that.." he lets out a strangled moan, unable to hide how needy he is for you. he bites down on his lip, trying to muffle his noise. "i'm tryna be fuckin' quiet, i swear.. but it's gettin' really fuckin' hard.. just keep going.."

you smile, a small, sassy grin that dances across your lips. yu shake your head lightly, titling it to one side as you wrap your fist tighter around his cock. "do you need my help to shut you up, hm?"

katsuki nods, his face flushed and his eyes pleading. "yeah. please.. please, i can't keep quiet on my own. i need you.. i need you to shut me up with your tits..."

you stop stroking him a little to shift positions, maneuvering yourself so that he is lying on your lap and his face on your chest. his head rests on your thighs, and you can feel the warmth of his body against yours as you reach out again to stroke him.

"so needy, sweetheart," you tease in a soft murmur, your fingers tantalizing on his cock as you look down at him.

"hmph," he huffs as his hand slips under your shirt, tugging it up quickly before his fingers warm against your skin as they brush against your stomach. it's not like he could tell you that you were wrong.

katsuki tugs gently on your bra, his intentions clear as his eyes lock onto yours. he doesn't break eye contact with you as he pulls your bra down, your tits spilling from the fabric, hard nipples already meeting the cold air and his hot breath.

it doesn't take long before katsuki's mouth immediately latches onto your nipple, moaning softly against the skin as his tongue swirls around your areola.

"you taste so good," he groaned, his other hand touches your neglected breast, rough and insistent as they knead and massage the doughy mound, pinching your nipple. "fuck, sweets.. wanna make you a mommy. get these gorgeous tits swollen with milk..."

"yeah?" a small, sheepish smile plays on your lips as you try to find your words. but it's hard to think clearly, hard to even form a sentence when he's getting handsy with your tits, feeling your cunny clenching with need. "you wanna make me a mommy, sweetheart?"

"yeah," he breathes, his cock twitching with precum as you stroke him. "i wanna put a baby in you. wanna fill you up and get you all nice and pregnant for me. you want that, right?"

your cheeks heat up as he gets more aggressive with your tits, his hands continuing to caress you. "yeah, maybe. so?"

"yeah? you'd like it if i knocked you up, mommy?"

you let out a soft moan, your body arching involuntarily as you try to process the pet-name. whenever he got subby, which was rarely, it always caught you off-guard. you wanted to deny how much it affected you as he caresses you, nibbling on your nipples like a man possessed.

"katsuki... i thought i told you to keep quiet.."

you clicked your tongue at him, your hand moving up and down his cock faster, purposely toying with him. he whines at the change of pace, his head dropping back against your plush thighs before he presses his face against your chest to muffle his moans.

"fuck... i'm sorry, mommy, i'm sorry," katsuki whimpers against your nipples, his tone almost whining and pleading as he looks up at you. "i'll keep quiet, i promise..."

"it's a shame, really," you murmur. "with how loud you are, now i'm thinking if i should even let you cum."

"no, no. need to cum, i'll be so quiet, i promise," katsuki gasps out, sucking your tits sore in between his pleas as he humps your fist.

"don't stop.. i'll be a good boy, just let me cum, mommy-"

"yeah? you think you deserve to after what you did?"

"im sorry alreadyyy," he moans, his voice cracking as he begs. it's hard to believe he's a tough, powerful pro-hero known for how aggressive he is. all brought down to a whimpering, whiny looking mess for you. "fuck, fuck, i'll do whatever you want... just please let me cum. please, mommy.."

katsuki looked like a little boy who wanted his favorite toy as he fondles your tits. he's desperate, he's needy, he's your whining, jacked boyfriend who just wants to cum.

and who were you to deny him what he wants?

"it's okay, baby," your voice is a sultry purr as you look down at him. "since you've been begging real good f'me, you can cum.."

katsuki's eyes flutter shut at your approval, a soft, guttural moan leaving his lips. he's close, so close that it's almost painful, and he's clinging to you like a lifeline. "shit.. sh-shit, thank you, m-mommy... fuck, 'm gonna fuckin' cum, shit-"

he bucks his hips into your hips one last time before trembling beneath your touch, shaking as his cum shoots down your fists, his cock twitching from the release.

you grin as you pump your fist on his cock, helping him ride out his high. your fingers linger on him for awhile before you pull away, licking your fingers off of his slick.

but someone still needed you. katsuki sat up and pulled you closer and he grabs your face in his hands, his lips crashing into yours in a fierce, desperate kiss. he kisses you like he needs you more than air, like he'll die without your touch. he doesn't even care if he's being needy. he just wants you, and only you.

he breaks the kiss for a moment, panting for air as he presses his forehead against yours. "fuck," he mutters against your lips, his voice rough and ragged. "that was... shit, i don't know what to say." he chuckles breathlessly.

"well..." you start with a cheeky grin, your fingers running through his hair. "you could start by saying thank you."

he huffs out a laugh, a tired smile spreading across his face. he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of your shampoo that he just loves. "thank you, baby. you're perfect, you know that? so goddamn perfect."

you bask in the moment, smiling warmly as you revel in the comfort of the cuddle. his warm, firm body against yours feels like home, and you feel content and complete in his arms.

in that moment, you feel completely content and at peace, as if nothing else in the world matters besides the two of you. you press yourself against him, a silent reassurance that he's here, he's real, and he's all yours.

[kikidoul]

── BROTHER'S BEST FRIEND.

໒꒰ྀི ^ ⸝⸝ ^ ꒱ྀིა박성훈 x fem! reader content established relationship non-idol au older brother's best friend trope reader is jay's younger sister ᥫ᭡ warning explicit sexual content unprotected sex (stay safe!) petnames used kissing pussy eating fingering begging squirting overstimulation sunghoon being a tease and wear glasses (important trust) jay cockblocking (not sorry). . .!? 1111— mlist.

note. another reupload from yours truly. currently writing part two so it will be posted soon, hopefully...

You have met your older brother’s friends a couple of times, having known them since you were young. They were a loud and chaotic group, if one were to ask for your opinion on them. But among them, there was someone who piqued your interest. Sunghoon isn't as talkative as the others. He mostly keeps to himself but you have seen him cracking jokes or making fun of your brother; Jay, resulting in the two bickering back and forth. It’s a common sight to hear them argue about the smallest things, much to everyone’s amusement. 

You knew it was wrong to have feelings for your brother’s friend but you couldn’t help it. Not when Sunghoon was nothing but kind and caring towards you. His features were simply another plus point and everything about him simply makes you swoon. You had to walk around your brother, hiding your relationship with Sunghoon from him. You know how overprotective Jay can be when it comes to you. The last thing you want is to end Sunghoon and Jay’s friendship. You knew how the two are practically glued to the hips, always coming as a pair.

“Ngh, Hoonie, fuck, hah, m-more,” you whined, your back arching off the bed. 

Your legs were slung over your boyfriend’s broad shoulders. Your left hand was covering your mouth; a feeble attempt of muffling your moans while the other gripped onto his abyssal-like hair. You couldn’t help but bucked your hips forward, craving more. It was a miracle you had survived this long before meeting Sunghoon and you came to learn that he was amazing with his mouth and fingers. 

Your boyfriend hums, moving his long, thick fingers in a scissor-like movement, opening and preparing you for what’s to come. Your eyes rolled up at a harsh suck of your clit, his tongue delving deeper. In the span of what felt like years when it was actually an hour, he had managed to make you cum a total of two times. The first was done by his fingers while the second was done by his tongue. Currently, he was pushing you over your comfort zone, hoping you could cum a third time. 

As they always say, third times the charm, right?

You squirmed about on the drenched sheets, gripping onto the pillow for dear life. Breathy moans flowed from your lips, like water falling from a water tap. 

“Fuck!” 

You gasped, thighs buckling as Sunghoon swirls the overly stimulated bud with his tongue. You felt it, the fire in your abdomen and how heat was spreading under your skin. Throwing all caution out of the window with the only thing in your mind was chasing your impending climax, you frantically jerked your hips forward. Your boyfriend got the hint, allowing you to fuck his tongue and it didn’t took you long to reach your climax. 

As compared to the orgasms you had before, this was more powerful and it took a deep toll on your body. You weren’t sure what happened as you laid on the bed, loosening your grip on Sunghoon’s hair, eyes closing to take a much-needed breather. 

“Woah, that was hot. I didn’t know you had it in you.” 

You opened your eyes, only to pause at the lewd scene before you. The frames of his glasses were coated in a thin layer of your juices. Some were dripping as it trailed down the frames, landing on the sheets. Your breath caught in your throat as Sunghoon licked his lips, his chin was glistening underneath the ceiling light. You wanted to apologize but he waved you off, knowing what you wanted to say. 

“You don’t have to apologize, princess,” he grins, moving closer until your noses graze against one another. “But I believe I should get a reward for making you squirt for the first time, right?” 

You light-heartedly rolled your eyes, choosing not to reply and kissed him instead. Sunghoon grinned into the kiss, parting your lips with his tongue, allowing you to taste yourself. He positioned himself in between your legs, one hand trailing down to fondle with your hardened peaks. You moaned into his mouth, the sound doing wonders to his body and mind. Wanting to hear more, Sunghoon broke the kiss. He aligned his cock to your needy, neglected and sensitive dripping entrance. 

“Look at you, I didn’t even have to use lube,” he breathed out, unable to tear his eyes away from the erotic sight of watching his cock disappearing inch by inch, getting swallowed by your greedy clit. 

“Oh god.. Hoonie,” you whined, throwing your head back, your gummy and velvety walls sucking him in, making him groan at the feeling. 

By the time he was buried deep in you, you felt like you were floating on a cloud. Sunghoon started thrusting, hips snapping against yours as he massaged your inner thighs—wanting you to relax and enjoy yourself. The bed moved along with your movements, the bedframe hitting the wall at equal intervals. At this rate, you’ve long forgotten that your brother had arrived home after a hectic day of back-to-back classes. Which was why none of you were prepared for the unexpected moment of Jay opening the door without knocking. 

“Hey sis, could you—Wait, what the fuck!?” He asks, raising his head from his phone, only for him to shriek at the top of his lungs. 

Both of you whirled your heads to his direction and your reactions were immediate. Sunghoon scrambled to move away from you while you pulled the sheets up, covering your body from your brother’s poor eyes. Jay had shielded his eyes with one hand, back facing the both of you. 

“Uh, it’s not what it looks like,” your boyfriend chirps in and you mentally face-palmed. 

“Not what it looks like? Pray tell me, then what does it look like because I can’t believe I saw my best friend fucking my sister. Oh my God, please God, help me,” Jay exclaimed. 

The two of you shared a look and you shrugged your shoulders, having gotten used to your brother’s dramatic antics. 

“Come down to the living room and we’re going to talk about this. And you better not be fucking or I will kill you with my bare hands, is that understood?” Jay directed the threat to his best friend, who nervously gulped. 

“Yes, sir.” 

When Jay left after closing the door along with him muttering about how he needs to bleach his eyes, you ran a hand through your hair. “Well, I guess we’re going to die under the hands of my brother.”

“...Please don’t say that. I’m actually scared of my life now.” 

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

bad mood. l Joel Miller

before Jackson

Summary: bad moods were holding you all, then you found this place

Warnings:  a bit of angst, but they finally make up, Ellie shows up, some swearing, guns, they're pretty mean to each other

A/N: This was requested by the wonderful @underneath-the-sky-again. thank you sweetie. I hope you enjoy it. it's short and boring!❤️

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

It was a difficult time for Joel. 

It all started with the worsening weather - the cold and rain were becoming more and more difficult and made you have to walk on roads that were drowning in mud and puddles. One day Ellie declared that even her underwear was wet and she was tired of this shitty march towards Jackson. 

The shelter you found was of little use and you couldn't stay there for long for fear of riders or other intruders. Then something started happening to you. Joel noticed it immediately. You became quieter, and every time he pointed something out to you ended with a sarcastic comment or an angry look from you.

"Jesus, what's gotten into you..." Joel muttered once, irritated, and at his next remark you just shrugged your shoulders, mumbling something like "Whatever."

Your food supplies were dwindling, and the accommodations didn't allow you to rest. And that fucking weather. Joel knew exactly what was causing the bad moods. And he himself was becoming more grumpy and quiet.

When some buildings appeared on the horizon, you were already so tired that you didn't care anymore - you wanted to get there, hide and catch some sleep.

"It must have been a warehouse of nearby farms." Joel muttered, approaching the metal door.

"Do you think we'll find something to eat there?" Ellie asked hopefully.

Joel shrugged, he didn't want to tell her that he was counting on it too. He readied his weapon, and you did the same, Ellie was supposed to guard the entrance. There was a long, dark corridor in front of you. You both entered and your footsteps echoed quietly inside. 

Soon it got dark and you turned on your flashlights to illuminate the place. Every now and then you passed a door, which you pushed gently, but it was closed.

"Shit." you hissed again, and Joel felt his irritation reaching its limit.

“Stop following me.” he finally muttered, even though he knew it was pointless, he kept repeating that you should stick together "You're going to give me a heart attack."

“Oh, do you want me to walk beside you? Maybe hold hands with you?” you snorted ironically.

You couldn’t see his face well, but you were sure Joel rolled his eyes. He had been annoying you so much lately, that you wanted to get away from him for a moment. With relief, you noticed a corridor leading off to the right.

“I’m going this way.” you declared.

“We should stick together.” he hissed.

“You just told me to fuck off.” you said angrily. “That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“That’s not what I said!”

“Whatever.”

Fuck. He watched as your flashlight flickered and you moved further and further away from him. If you survived this night and didn’t kill each other, or someone didn’t kill you, Joel would consider it a success.

The corridor continued for some time until he finally stopped in a large room. Overturned shelves, remnants of warehouse equipment, but silence reigned everywhere. On the other side he noticed another door, this time with a sign indicating the cafeteria. 

He was about to grab the door handle when he heard a strange noise from the other side. He put his working ear to the door and began to listen. A strange shuffling, something he couldn't identify. If those were clickers, then you were screwed. He didn't know where you were or if he would be able to find you fast enough.

Something slammed into the door, and then again. Joel adjusted his fingers on the rifle. He could take care of this quickly. If it was one or two clickers... Yeah, he should be able to handle it.

He grabbed the handle and yanked the door open, something fell out from behind it, and Joel aimed the barrel and...

You stared at him, and he saw surprise and fear in your eyes. He felt like something had cut off his power and his knees buckled.

"Fuck!" he groaned "I could have killed you!"

"After the last few days, I wouldn't be surprised." you replied, but you didn't sound too sure "I managed to get into this room, I wanted to get out and..."

Joel nodded, trying to calm his faster heartbeat. Then you lifted something you were holding in your hand. "Look what I found! It's not much, a few cans, but it's still something. I think it's some kind of soup, but I also saw risotto and some stew. Ellie will be happy."

You weren't wrong. As soon as you arranged your stay in one of the rooms, you started heating up what you found. 

When the warm meal filled your stomachs, you immediately felt better. Ellie quickly regained her good mood. Eventually, however, she started yawning. She squeezed herself into the sleeping bag somehow, mumbled a quiet "Night!" and soon you heard her soft breathing.

You took a few sips of tea and adjusted the blanket that was thrown over your shoulders. Joel was sitting against the wall. He stretched his long legs in front of him and folded his arms across his chest, you could see that he was slowly dozing off.

"You should get some sleep." You said quietly, he opened his eyelids lazily "I'll take the first watch."

"No need." he replied, but then yawned.

You chuckled. "Do you want to keep arguing?" he shook his head and reached for the blanket.

He finally laid down. "Sorry I tried to kill you. I thought it was infected."

You looked at him with a smile "It's fine, but next time you should try harder."

He smiled and rubbed his eyelids with his hand. "Yeah, I'll try to remember that."

"Joel?" he looked at you once more, your face wasn't as tense anymore, you seemed more relaxed "I'm sorry I was such a bitch."

"It's fine, but next time you should try harder."

You both laughed quietly. The rain was pattering slower and slower on the roof and soon Joel's quiet snoring informed you that he had fallen asleep too.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven

[earthlybeam]

Just some random headcanons i think that fit haldir (my opinion)

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Haldir version below.

🏹𝓗𝓪𝓵𝓭𝓲𝓻

What's their love language? Haldir’s primary love language is Acts of Service, closely followed by Quality Time. As a Marchwarden of Lothlórien, Haldir’s life is shaped by duty, responsibility, and vigilance. These deeply ingrained values influence how he expresses love, as he approaches relationships with the same steadfast dedication and thoughtfulness he devotes to guarding the Golden Wood. For Haldir, love is not simply expressed through fleeting words or grand declarations—it is a consistent, tangible force woven into the small yet meaningful actions that demonstrate his care and devotion.

When it comes to Acts of Service, Haldir shows his love by doing rather than speaking. He believes actions are the truest form of commitment, and his affection manifests in the form of thoughtful gestures aimed at making his significant other’s (s/o’s) life easier and more secure. He is the type to notice their needs before they even voice them—whether it’s preparing a warm cloak on a cold night, repairing a treasured possession, or quietly standing watch while they rest, ensuring they feel safe. His acts are never performed for recognition or praise; they are born out of genuine care and a deep desire to support and protect the person he loves. For Haldir, these gestures are deeply personal. He takes pride in knowing what will comfort his s/o most, whether that’s preparing a meal tailored to their tastes, offering a silent shoulder to lean on after a hard day, or stepping in to handle problems they cannot face alone. His service is a silent promise: “I see you. I care for you. I will always protect you.” It’s how he reminds his s/o, without words, that their happiness and well-being are his priority.

Alongside Acts of Service, Quality Time is equally vital to Haldir’s love language. For someone whose days are often consumed by duty and vigilance, time spent with his s/o feels precious and sacred. Sharing undistracted moments allows him to lower the protective walls he constantly maintains and connect with them on a deeper level. Haldir treasures the rare, quiet hours where he and his s/o can simply be together, unburdened by the outside world. These moments might include walking together through the serene golden woods of Lothlórien, basking in the tranquility of the forest and the soft rustle of leaves overhead. Perhaps it’s sharing quiet conversations beneath the stars, where his guarded demeanor softens, and his words carry rare tenderness. Even moments of silence are meaningful to him—a gentle touch or a glance exchanged between them speaks volumes. He values this undivided attention as a way to nurture their connection and show his s/o that in those moments, they are the center of his world. Haldir’s love language is deeply tied to his character—measured, steadfast, and thoughtful. Through acts of service and time spent together, he conveys a love that is constant and enduring, grounded in the unspoken promise that his s/o will always have a partner they can depend on. For Haldir, love is a quiet, steadfast flame, burning brightly even when unspoken.

How do they view their significant other? Are they the light in their life? Best friend? Savior, etc.? Haldir views his significant other (s/o) as a radiant beacon of light in his often somber, duty-bound existence—a source of warmth and hope that softens the edges of his stoic life. To him, they are far more than a mere companion or partner; they are his anchor, his guiding star, and his reason to return home after the long, wearisome days of patrolling the borders of Lothlórien. In a life consumed by vigilance and the weight of responsibility, his s/o represents the beauty and peace he protects but seldom allows himself to fully enjoy. Haldir’s perception of his s/o is deeply tied to the rare vulnerability they inspire in him. While he is accustomed to leading and standing guard, his s/o becomes the one person with whom he can let down his walls. In their presence, he finds solace and reprieve, as if stepping into a safe haven where he can momentarily lay aside his burdens. They become his confidant—the one person he trusts to share the thoughts and emotions he keeps hidden from the world. With them, he doesn’t have to carry the weight of his responsibilities alone.

Quietly romantic and introspective by nature, Haldir sees his s/o as the embodiment of everything he cherishes most: grace, strength, and the quiet beauty of life that he rarely has time to appreciate. To him, they are a balance to his solitary and guarded nature, a mirror that reflects the softer, more human aspects of himself that he often suppresses. He finds their presence grounding, yet inspiring, as if they are a reminder of what he fights to protect—a symbol of hope in a world that can so easily fall into darkness. Haldir’s love for his s/o is rooted in admiration and deep respect. He marvels at their ability to bring light into his life, whether through their laughter, their quiet understanding, or the way they look at the world with wonder and resilience. He treasures their kindness and strength, often seeing in them the courage and gentleness he strives to embody. To Haldir, his s/o is a precious gift, something both fragile and enduring—a rare source of joy and meaning in a life filled with duty and sacrifice. Though he may not always voice his feelings openly, Haldir’s actions speak volumes about how deeply he values his s/o. He views them as his sanctuary, a partner who not only supports him but helps him see the beauty and purpose in his own life. In their love, he finds the strength to face the uncertainty of the world, knowing that no matter what challenges arise, they are his reason to hope and endure.

How do they act when falling out of love? Falling out of love would not be an abrupt or impulsive event for Haldir. His deep emotional reserve and disciplined nature mean that such a shift in his feelings would be a slow, contemplative process. He is not someone to act rashly or give in to fleeting emotions; instead, if he senses the connection fading, he would likely retreat inwardly, becoming more withdrawn and introspective. He would reflect on the reasons for this change within himself, often questioning the validity of his feelings and searching for clarity before taking any action. Given Haldir’s guarded demeanor, it would not be immediately apparent to his significant other that something has shifted. He would still carry out his duties with precision and care, remaining respectful and considerate, but emotionally, there would be a subtle distance that grows over time. His affection would become more distant, and his attention would shift, not through overt coldness but through a quiet, internal reorganization of priorities.

Though Haldir would not be overtly confrontational about the shift in his feelings, there would be an emotional distance that gradually widens. His partner might notice his increasing silence, less frequent displays of affection, or his tendency to seek solitude more often than before. Still, his innate sense of duty and honor would prevent him from being rude or inconsiderate toward his s/o. He would not lash out, but instead, his actions would reflect a growing detachment—a silent, internal struggle that he bears alone. Haldir’s loyalty and honor would keep him from severing ties hastily. For him, it would take a significant betrayal or a profound misalignment in values to drive him to consciously fall out of love. If he feels that trust has been broken or that there is an irreconcilable gap between them, he would be forced to reconcile these feelings quietly and with great pain. The emotional weight of this shift would not be taken lightly, and he would carry it silently, perhaps turning to the solitude of the woods or other quiet spaces to process the emotional toll. However, despite the fading passion, Haldir’s sense of responsibility toward his partner would ensure he remains protective and respectful. He would not leave without offering an explanation, but the process would likely unfold slowly, with little more than a gentle withdrawal. In the end, his actions would convey that while the depth of his love may have changed, his sense of duty and care for the well-being of his s/o would remain—though the romantic connection may no longer be what it once was.

Will they do anything for their s/o? Will the crocodile tears win them over or are they stubborn on not giving in? Yes, Haldir would go to great lengths to ensure his significant other’s happiness, safety, and well-being—within reason. His devotion is steadfast and his love, once given, is unwavering. He would fiercely protect his s/o, offering both emotional and physical support, and would sacrifice much to keep them safe from harm. Whether it’s braving danger, offering comfort during difficult times, or ensuring their peace of mind, Haldir would prove time and time again that he is a reliable and trustworthy partner. However, Haldir’s deeply ingrained caution and strong sense of duty mean that he does not act impulsively. His decision-making is tempered by practicality, and he weighs every action carefully. While his love is profound, it is not blind or unreasoning. He values integrity, responsibility, and respect in a relationship, and this will shape the extent to which he is willing to go. If his s/o’s request is reasonable, aligned with his values, and does not threaten the stability of Lothlórien or his duties as a Marchwarden, Haldir would go to great lengths to fulfill it.

That being said, he is not easily swayed by emotional manipulation or crocodile tears. Haldir holds steadfastly to his principles, and he does not let guilt or emotional pressure dictate his actions. While he is empathetic and deeply attuned to his s/o’s needs, he does not tolerate behavior that compromises mutual respect or manipulates his affections. His love is not conditional, but it is grounded in a shared sense of honor, trust, and responsibility. For Haldir, true devotion is not about reckless acts of love, but about long-term commitment, support, and a partnership built on mutual respect. He would never act in a way that endangers the well-being of those he loves, nor would he do anything that violates his sense of duty or the values he holds dear. His love is steadfast, practical, and tempered by a quiet strength that ensures it remains enduring, grounded, and honest. In short, Haldir would indeed do anything for his s/o, as long as the request is aligned with his integrity, the safety of his people, and the values he holds sacred. His love is unconditional, but it is not without boundaries or limits.

How do they kiss? Haldir's kisses are slow, deliberate, and profoundly meaningful. He does not rush or indulge in impulsive displays of affection, preferring instead to savor each kiss as if it were a rare and precious moment. His reserved nature means that he does not engage in public displays of passion, but when he is with his significant other in private, his kisses are intimate, tender, and full of deep affection. When he kisses his s/o, Haldir's movements are measured and purposeful. He often begins by gently cupping their face, as if memorizing the contours of their features, or holding them close with one hand resting protectively on their lower back. His touch is warm and reassuring, the sort that speaks of safety and trust. He would never rush through these moments, instead savoring the closeness between them as a way to connect deeply without words. With each kiss, there is a quiet intensity as he expresses his feelings through the simple act of touch, offering a rare window into his guarded heart.

When in public or in the presence of others, Haldir is more restrained offering quick, fleeting pecks to the lips —a gentle brush of affection that does not draw attention but still conveys his fondness. These kisses are soft and respectful of the space between them, as he knows the importance of maintaining composure when around others. However, even these brief pecks are filled with meaning, offering a quiet promise of affection that lingers long after the moment has passed.

In private, however, Haldir allows himself to fully immerse in the act of kissing. There is no rush when they are alone together. He pulls his s/o close, his hands gently resting on their hips, keeping them within his embrace as he kisses them with a deep, slow intensity. His kisses are firm, his lips moving with purpose, but always at a leisurely pace —each kiss a silent declaration of his feelings, as if the act itself speaks louder than words ever could. He takes his time, caressing their lips as though he wants to imprint the sensation on his soul. In these moments, Haldir is entirely present, his emotional guard lowered as he expresses the tenderness and depth of his love. It's a vulnerability he only shares with them, and it is through these intimate moments that he allows his softer, more affectionate side to shine through. Haldir's kisses are not just about passion-they are about connection, trust, and the rare vulnerability he allows himself to experience with someone who holds his heart.

What's their favorite part of their s/o? Haldir’s favorite parts of his s/o are their eyes, voice, and hands—each a silent language of its own, one that he deeply cherishes. His connection to them is more than physical, as he is acutely attuned to the nuances of their emotions and expressions. First, it’s their eyes that captivate him. He sees their eyes as windows to their soul, a reflection of their innermost feelings, whether those feelings are joy, sorrow, passion, or vulnerability. Haldir is drawn to the way their gaze can speak volumes without uttering a single word. Their eyes hold a depth that both comforts and intrigues him. They give him insight into their heart, and it is in those moments of silent understanding that he feels most connected to them. Whether they are soft and loving or bright with excitement, Haldir finds a profound beauty in the way their emotions shine through their gaze, speaking directly to his own heart.

Haldir is also deeply moved by the sound of their voice. Their voice has the ability to soothe him after long, exhausting days or to stir him with quiet passion during more intimate moments. He finds that their tone, cadence, and the words they speak hold power—whether they are offering reassurance, sharing a laugh, or simply offering a comforting silence. Their voice becomes a source of grounding for him, one that calms his restless mind or brings warmth to his soul. In the quiet of their conversations, their words are often like a balm, soothing him in ways that nothing else can.

Physically, Haldir is particularly drawn to their hands—hands that can be both gentle and capable, creative and comforting. He admires the way their hands move with such grace and purpose, whether they are crafting something beautiful, offering him a comforting touch, or simply holding his. He finds solace in the simple act of their hand in his, and it is in those moments that he feels truly at peace. Their hands embody a quiet strength, and Haldir treasures how they convey care and affection. Whether their hands are skilled with a bow, as delicate as they may be in weaving or playing an instrument, or simply placed gently on his shoulder in reassurance, he feels a profound connection in these subtle, physical gestures. For Haldir, these parts of his s/o—eyes, voice, and hands—hold a quiet yet profound significance. They are the ways in which he connects with them on a deeper level, understanding their soul and finding comfort in their presence. To him, they are not just physical features, but symbols of the bond they share, a connection he holds precious and rare.

Are they protective? Absolutely. Haldir’s protective instincts are not only a product of his upbringing as a warrior and his role as a Marchwarden of Lothlórien, but also a manifestation of his deep affection and commitment to his s/o. He views protection as a fundamental part of his duty—not just to his people, but to those he loves. This instinct is both practical and emotional, driven by an intense desire to ensure their safety, happiness, and well-being. With his s/o, Haldir’s protectiveness knows no bounds. He’s ever-watchful, scanning the horizon, ensuring that they’re safe from physical harm, and even safeguarding their emotional well-being. Whether it’s ensuring they don’t overexert themselves, watching over them during dangerous missions, or simply making sure they have everything they need, Haldir’s attentiveness is constant. He values their safety above all else and, at times, this can lead him to be somewhat overbearing. It isn’t that he doubts their abilities; rather, he feels an overwhelming responsibility to shield them from any harm, as he views his protective role as a way to express his devotion.

Haldir can be fiercely stubborn when it comes to his s/o’s safety. If they are determined to take risks or face danger alone, he will not hesitate to intervene, even if it means an argument or disagreement. While he understands their independence, his love for them often leads him to feel the need to shield them from the harsh realities of the world, whether it’s protecting them from the physical threats that lurk in Lothlórien or from emotional pain. This protective nature can sometimes lead him to insist on accompanying them when they would prefer to go alone, or he might try to remove potential sources of distress, even if it feels unnecessary to them. To Haldir, love and protection are inseparable. He doesn’t see these instincts as overbearing but as an expression of his deep, unwavering commitment. For him, there is no greater priority than ensuring that his s/o is safe, both in body and spirit. Even if they protest or argue, he will always stand firm, knowing that it is his love that drives this need to protect them. In his eyes, being with someone means being there for them through everything, and that often means protecting them—even if it’s from themselves.

How far will they go to take care of their sick s/o? When his s/o falls ill, Haldir’s devotion to their well-being becomes absolute. His usual stoic nature, grounded in duty and responsibility, would give way to an intensity of care that might surprise those who know him best. Haldir’s protective instincts come alive with an urgency to ensure his s/o’s health and comfort. While he is rarely expressive about his emotions, his concern for their illness would be apparent in every action he takes. Haldir would leave no stone unturned in his quest to see them recover. If the sickness is one that can be treated with the natural resources of Lothlórien, he would scour the forest for rare herbs, consulting the ancient knowledge passed down by his people. He would even go as far as consulting Galadriel herself, seeking her wisdom and guidance, knowing that her knowledge of healing could be invaluable. No length would be too great for him, and he would rely on every resource available to him in Lothlórien to ensure his s/o’s recovery. Throughout the illness, Haldir would be ever-present at their side, offering gentle care in ways that might seem out of character for someone so steadfast and composed. He would prepare meals, ensure they have enough rest, and even hold vigil at their bedside. His hands, usually so firm and unyielding in battle, would be surprisingly tender as he helps them with even the smallest of tasks. Whether it’s adjusting blankets or offering a comforting touch, he would ensure that they never feel alone or abandoned during their recovery.

Though he is not one to easily show his vulnerability, Haldir would stay with them for as long as needed, disregarding his own duties as a Marchwarden. His responsibilities would feel secondary to the care of his s/o—something he would never hesitate to prioritize. He would dismiss any personal discomfort, whether it’s lack of sleep or the demands of his role in Lothlórien, in favor of their healing. If the illness persists, Haldir would remain unwavering in his determination, refusing to leave their side until he’s certain that they are out of danger. In his eyes, no sacrifice is too great for someone he loves. His sense of duty to them would outshine all other obligations, as their well-being would become his sole focus. His actions would speak louder than any words, demonstrating his commitment and love in the most intimate and selfless ways possible. For Haldir, the love he feels for his s/o would be woven into every act of care, no matter how small.

How do they cheer their s/o up when they're down? When his s/o is feeling down, Haldir’s response is one of quiet strength and careful observation. Rather than offering grand gestures, he takes a more subtle, instinctive approach, knowing that what his s/o needs is a sense of calm and emotional support rather than a whirlwind of energy or distractions. His perceptive nature allows him to pick up on even the slightest cues, whether it’s a shift in tone, a quiet sadness in their eyes, or a change in their posture. From these subtle signs, he can discern exactly how to best comfort them.

Haldir may take his s/o on a peaceful walk through the tranquil woods of Lothlórien, where the golden leaves shimmer in the soft sunlight. In these moments, there’s no rush, no expectation—just the comforting presence of the forest and the sound of their footsteps on the soft earth. As they walk, he might share quiet words of encouragement, offering reassurance or wisdom that stems from his own experiences. His words would not be flowery or overly emotional, but instead would be steady and calm, speaking to the heart in a way that makes them feel understood and supported. He would speak from a place of deep knowing, reminding them that they are not alone in their struggles. Alternatively, if his s/o doesn’t feel like talking, Haldir would simply sit beside them, offering silent support. In these moments, he wouldn’t push for conversation or try to force a smile, but rather would sit in companionable silence, offering his presence as a steady anchor. His proximity is a reminder that no matter what, he’s there with them, sharing in the weight of whatever they’re facing. His presence alone would be a source of comfort—his hand may rest gently on theirs, or his eyes may meet theirs with a silent promise that he is there, unwavering, through both the light and dark times.

On rare occasions, when he senses his s/o could use a distraction, Haldir’s dry, wry sense of humor may come into play. It’s not often that he allows his humor to shine through, but when it does, it’s a welcome surprise. His jokes are subtle, and while they may carry an edge of sarcasm, they’re never mean-spirited. Instead, they are clever and thoughtful, aimed at bringing a smile or a light-hearted moment in the midst of sadness. A rare chuckle or a fleeting smile from his s/o would be enough to remind him that, despite his seriousness, he can still bring joy to those he loves. Through it all, Haldir’s approach to cheering up his s/o is deeply understated. He may not be the loudest or most overtly expressive partner, but his methods are grounded in empathy and attentiveness. His quiet but unwavering support makes it clear to his s/o that they are not alone, and that whatever difficulty they’re facing, he will stand beside them—strong, calm, and steady.

How do they react when they find out their s/o is dead? Haldir’s reaction to the death of his s/o would be a profound and crushing blow, though it would be expressed in ways that are quiet, stoic, and largely internalized. His grief would not be loud or outwardly dramatic, but rather the kind of sorrow that settles deep within, silently consuming him. While he may not openly show the depth of his pain to others, it would be evident in the way he withdraws even further into himself. He is a warrior, a protector, and someone who has long carried the weight of responsibility, so the emotional toll of such a loss would be kept tightly bound beneath a shield of stoicism.

The facade of duty and strength would remain outwardly intact, as his role as Marchwarden demands unwavering composure. He would continue to perform his duties, but everything would feel hollow, as if something essential was now missing from his life. His days might pass in a blur of motions—still efficient, still resolute—but devoid of the spark and warmth that his s/o once brought to his world. He may even find himself going through the motions mechanically, performing his responsibilities with quiet precision but without the passion or light he once had when they were by his side. Internally, the pain of the loss would gnaw at him constantly, and his heart would be heavy with sorrow. He would likely become even more withdrawn, retreating further into solitude. There would be moments, when alone in the quiet of the woods or beneath the canopy of stars, when the walls he so carefully built would crumble, and his grief would come crashing in waves. But even then, Haldir would be unlikely to express it openly to others. His solitude would be his only solace, and he would keep his sorrow locked away, perhaps even from himself, except in those rare moments when he is entirely alone.

In private, Haldir would honor his s/o’s memory in quiet, deeply personal ways. He might plant a tree in their name, marking a part of the forest where they once walked together, as a living memorial to their presence in his life. The act would be quiet, meaningful, and intimate, a testament to the love they shared and the impact they had on him. If Haldir is alone and the weight of his grief becomes unbearable, he might retreat to a secluded spot, far away from others, and sing a soft lament in their honor—a song filled with sorrow, but also reverence. This mournful tune, filled with the weight of his feelings, would echo through the trees, a tribute to what was lost. Even though Haldir would never show the full extent of his pain to others, the loss of his s/o would leave an indelible mark on his soul. It would linger with him, shaping his actions, his decisions, and his worldview for the rest of his life. In a way, he would carry their memory with him wherever he went—quiet, unspoken, but always there. While he would continue to fulfill his duties with unwavering dedication, the joy and love he once had would be irreparably altered. The person who once filled that space in his heart would be gone, and Haldir would be left to face the world with the weight of that loss, enduring the passage of time while carrying the memory of the one he loved in silence.

What makes them worry about their s/o the most? Haldir’s primary concern for his s/o revolves around their safety and well-being, particularly given the dangers that lie beyond the borders of Lothlórien. As a Marchwarden and protector, he is acutely aware of the threats that the outside world holds—whether it be from hostile forces, wild creatures, or the lingering dangers of war. He understands the vulnerability of those he cares for, and this knowledge manifests in a constant, quiet worry that never truly dissipates. His fears are not limited to physical harm alone. Haldir is also deeply protective of his s/o’s emotional well-being. He knows the harsh realities of life, the toll that loss and sorrow can take on a soul, and he dreads the thought of his s/o suffering emotional pain or distress, especially from forces outside his control. The thought that someone could manipulate or cause them harm—whether through deceit, betrayal, or simply by their inability to navigate the world as cautiously as he does��keeps him on edge.

Haldir is particularly concerned about their interactions with outsiders. His distrust of those unfamiliar to him, shaped by years of duty and protecting Lothlórien, makes him wary of anyone who might come into contact with his s/o. He is protective to the point of being overbearing, questioning the intentions of others, and feeling a need to shield his s/o from potential harm or exploitation. This protective instinct can make him seem possessive at times, as he may want to keep them within the safety of Lothlórien’s borders or ensure they do not venture into situations that could be dangerous or emotionally taxing. In moments when his s/o is outside his direct reach, Haldir’s mind races with all the possibilities of harm that could come their way. His loyalty to them, paired with his inherent sense of duty, makes him uneasy when he cannot personally guard them. Whether they are traveling alone, dealing with unfamiliar individuals, or even simply facing a challenging situation, he worries that they are exposed to risks that he cannot prevent. It is this helplessness, this inability to protect them at all times, that causes him the greatest anxiety. Though Haldir may never openly admit the depth of his worry, it is always present in the way he watches over them, the way he quietly anticipates their needs, and in the careful, thoughtful way he approaches their safety. His love for them is both a source of strength and vulnerability, and the weight of caring so deeply for someone in such a dangerous world is a constant burden on his heart.

How often do they stare lovingly at their s/o?Haldir’s gaze is not one to be openly displayed, as he is a creature of duty and restraint, often keeping his emotions in check. However, in rare moments of vulnerability, when he believes no one is watching, his eyes will soften with a tenderness that he does not easily express aloud. These stolen glances are a reflection of his deep affection, a private treasure he keeps for himself. His admiration is most evident when his s/o is engaged in something that brings them joy or peace—whether they are lost in conversation, lost in a moment of quiet contemplation, or simply going about their day. At these times, Haldir’s gaze lingers, drawn to the subtle ways they move, the expressions that flicker across their face, or the light in their eyes. He finds beauty in their every action, whether they are simply reading a book or tending to something with gentle hands. His eyes follow them with an unspoken fondness that speaks volumes without a single word being exchanged

Though he may not openly show it, his heart swells in these moments. He admires the strength in their posture, the warmth in their smile, or the way they move through the world with grace and purpose. It is a quiet adoration, an acknowledgment of all they are—both the external and the internal qualities that make them unique. These moments of gaze are rare, often fleeting, but filled with a quiet intensity that only Haldir can understand. While his public demeanor remains composed and reserved, these private moments when he allows himself to stare lovingly at his s/o are his way of silently communicating his deep love and admiration for them—an expression of affection he reserves for his one true companion. His gaze is an intimate bond between them, one that doesn’t require words, only the shared understanding of the depth of his feelings.

How do they impress their s/o? Haldir impresses his s/o not with grand gestures or overt displays of affection, but through the quiet strength and unwavering dedication that defines him. His poise and grace are evident in everything he does, from the way he moves with an effortless elegance through the forests of Lothlórien to the calm confidence he exhibits as a leader. It is the subtlety of his actions that leaves a lasting impact. One of the ways Haldir captures his s/o’s admiration is through his fierce yet calm dedication to his duties. Whether it’s in the defense of Lothlórien or guiding others through the perilous woods, he exudes a quiet confidence in his skills, allowing his s/o to feel safe and protected under his watch. His capability, both as a warrior and a leader, leaves them in awe of his inner strength and discipline.

His deep knowledge of Elven history and lore also plays a role in impressing his s/o. He possesses a wisdom that comes from centuries of experience, and when he speaks of Lothlórien’s ancient trees or the rich culture of the Elves, his s/o is entranced by his ability to connect them to the beauty and depth of their world. His stories are not mere recitations but offer insight into his soul, and each word is a window into his heart. The way he appreciates even the smallest details—be it the sound of the wind in the leaves or the intricacies of a well-crafted bow—shows his sensitivity to beauty in all things, making his s/o feel as though they’re seeing the world through his eyes. Perhaps most impressively, Haldir’s attentiveness and devotion are palpable in the smallest, most thoughtful gestures. He seems to instinctively know what his s/o needs, whether it’s a comforting touch after a long day or a word of encouragement when they feel uncertain. His ability to anticipate their needs—whether emotional or physical—demonstrates a care that goes beyond simple affection. He never demands anything in return, and his actions show a profound respect and understanding of who they are.

In private, Haldir’s love takes on a more intimate, tender form. He finds comfort in the simplicity of small gestures that are shared when they are alone. Whether it’s gently braiding his s/o’s hair, running his fingers through the strands with quiet care, or simply holding them close during a long, peaceful cuddle, these moments of closeness speak volumes about his love. The act of braiding hair is an especially personal way for him to show tenderness, a delicate task that requires patience and attention to detail. His hands, which are so often used for battle, become instruments of care and affection when it comes to his s/o. He also expresses his love through slow, lingering kisses. These quiet moments allow him to reveal a side of himself that is rarely seen by others. His kisses are never rushed but are filled with deep affection, a way for him to connect on a more intimate level when they are alone. When his s/o is in his arms, he may offer small, soft kisses, an expression of his quiet devotion that grows with each passing moment. When Haldir cares for someone, it’s not a matter of duty—it’s a quiet devotion that manifests in the smallest of acts. His s/o may be impressed not by the overt declarations of love, but by the steady, reliable presence he offers, the way he supports them in every way without hesitation. It’s a love that’s built on actions that leave no room for doubt: Haldir is someone they can trust, admire, and rely upon.

Extra bonus (these parts just for fun, love writing them 😈🙈)

➳ He’s a sucker for forehead kisses. It’s his go-to way of showing affection without saying anything. If his s/o is upset, a soft press of his lips to their forehead is his quiet reassurance that everything will be okay.

➳ He gives surprisingly heartfelt compliments. Though he’s not one for flowery words, when he does speak about his s/o, his honesty and depth of feeling make his words unforgettable. A simple “You are the light in my life” from him carries more weight than a thousand poems.

➳ He secretly loves when s/o fall asleep on him. Whether it’s during a quiet moment in the woods or by the fire, Haldir will freeze at first but then soften completely, wrapping an arm around them and holding them close.

➳ He blushes easily around them. Though he tries to maintain his stoic demeanor, a loving look or unexpected compliment from his s/o can leave him flustered and adorably red-faced.

➳ He secretly loves when they call him by a pet name. He’ll roll his eyes and pretend it’s ridiculous, but deep down, it makes him feel warm and cherished.

➳ He always has to have the last word. Whether it’s a minor disagreement or a full-blown debate, Haldir will find a way to deliver a closing remark, even if it’s muttered under his breath as he walks away.

➳ He’s a master of pointed silence. When he knows he’s right (which is always, in his mind), he’ll cross his arms and give you the most condescending look until you cave. That raised eyebrow could win any argument without him saying a word.

➳ He’s passive-aggressively polite when he’s annoyed. He’ll say things like, “Of course, you’re entirely correct,” while pointedly adjusting his cloak with a dramatic flourish that screams otherwise.

➳ He’s a stickler for details. If someone tries to generalize in an argument, he’ll interject with, “Actually…” and proceed to deliver an overly specific, smug correction that no one asked for.

➳ He’ll never admit he’s lost an argument. If it happens, he’ll deflect with, “This isn’t worth my time,” or, “We have more important things to do,” and walk away with his head high, pretending he never cared.

➳ He secretly loves when someone stands their ground. As much as he loves being right, he respects people who don’t give in easily—especially his s/o. Their ability to challenge him and hold firm in their beliefs not only impresses him but also stirs something deeper within. The fiery determination they show in an argument is, admittedly, a big turn-on for him. While he would never openly admit it, the clash of wits leaves him both exhilarated and quietly captivated. Their eventual resolution—whether it’s a compromise or his reluctant surrender—becomes all the sweeter because of the tension and passion that led up to it. Deep down, he relishes the challenge, finding it endlessly alluring.

➳ Haldir has a stare that could kill—literally. His resting face is so intense and deadpan that when he’s not actively engaging in conversation, it looks like he’s trying to burn a hole through whoever is in front of him. It’s a look so sharp that it makes everyone uncomfortable, though he’s often unaware of how intimidating it is. People know to stay out of his way when he’s in his “zone,” but secretly, he doesn’t mind the intimidation—it’s a power he quietly enjoys.

➳ He absolutely hates small, irritating sounds. The constant ticking of a clock, the tapping of a finger, or the rustling of papers will drive him mad. It grinds on him in a way that few things do. He won’t show it openly, but it’s enough to make him restless and irritable. If something is making noise that annoys him, he’ll often “fix” it in subtle ways—maybe clearing his throat loudly or repositioning to get farther away from it. You’re guaranteed to see a twitch in his eye if he can’t escape the noise.

➳ He’s constantly pretending to hate romantic gestures, but secretly he loves them. He’ll act like a stoic warrior when his s/o gives him a thoughtful gift or says something sweet, responding with a simple “It’s nothing” or “You shouldn’t have.” But when he’s alone, he’ll secretly admire the gift or replay the words in his head, smiling faintly to himself.

➳ Haldir secretly enjoys being pampered by his s/o. He’s used to being the one in charge, taking care of others, but in private, he enjoys when his s/o takes care of him. Whether it’s massaging his shoulders after a long day or simply sitting with him in quiet comfort, he allows himself to be vulnerable in these moments, enjoying the closeness it brings.

➳ Haldir gets easily annoyed by unnecessary noise. Whether it’s a clanging sword, loud voices, or the rustling of a branch out of place, Haldir can be very sensitive to disruptive sounds. His heightened senses, honed over centuries of living in the forests, make him attuned to even the smallest disturbances, and it can put him on edge if he’s trying to focus.

➳ He absolutely despises being fussed over, but deep down, he loves it. Haldir would never ask for attention, and if anyone tries to pamper him, he’ll act all grumpy about it. He might snap at them or roll his eyes, but he secretly enjoys being cared for. If someone offers to give him a shoulder rub or a warm drink, he’ll act like he doesn’t need it—yet he’ll find himself looking forward to it.

➳ He’s a soft grumpy, the kind of person who grumbles about everything but secretly enjoys every bit of it. He’ll roll his eyes if someone asks for his help but will do it without a second thought, muttering under his breath the entire time. But once the task is done, you can tell he’s secretly pleased with himself. His grumpiness is a mask for his deep care and attention to detail.

➳ Big cuddles—he pretends to hate them, but he secretly loves them. While Haldir would never admit it, he’s a big fan of cuddles. He often acts gruff or distant when his s/o tries to pull him into a cozy embrace, rolling his eyes or muttering about “discomfort” and “wasting time.” However, when he’s actually in the embrace, he’s completely relaxed, often sighing contentedly and letting himself fall into the warmth of the hug. It’s one of the few times he lets his guard down, but he’ll continue to grumble about it afterward to maintain his tough exterior.

➳ Secretly, he’s a sucker for affection—but he’ll never ask for it. Haldir is very proud and would rather suffer in silence than admit that he craves touch or emotional warmth. But every now and then, he’ll lean into someone’s touch, or he’ll respond to a soft gesture of affection with a genuine warmth that he struggles to hide. He’ll always play it off, pretending that he didn’t want it, but deep down, he secretly enjoys it and looks forward to those moments where he doesn’t have to be “the strong one.”

➳ Haldir is basically a grumpy cat. Much like a cat, he’ll silently judge you, disappear into his own space for hours, and then come out for affection on his terms. He won’t give you attention just because you want it, but if he’s in the right mood (or if he’s just bored), he’ll begrudgingly acknowledge you, usually with a quiet grumble and an eye roll. But like a cat, when he does decide to get affectionate, it’s on his own schedule—and he expects you to deal with his mood swings.

➳ He cherishes his alone time more than anything. While Haldir cares deeply for those around him, he thrives in solitude. Whether he’s taking a walk through the woods or simply sitting in quiet contemplation, he needs moments where he can disconnect from the world and recharge. If he’s in a group for too long, he’ll start looking like he’s about to explode from overstimulation. Being alone is his way of maintaining balance and peace.

➳ Haldir’s not one for small talk, but he values meaningful conversations. When he does speak, it’s usually with purpose. Small talk and idle chatter are foreign to him. However, if someone engages him in a deep, thoughtful conversation, he will open up—showing his intelligence, wisdom, and sometimes even his more philosophical side. These conversations are some of the few times he allows himself to relax.

➳ Haldir is surprisingly good at reading body language. His ability to understand people doesn’t just come from his long years of experience but also from his deep empathy. He can easily read someone’s mood or intentions just from a glance at their posture, their facial expression, or the way they move. This makes him an excellent strategist and confidant.

➳ Haldir’s private smile is like a rare treasure. He doesn’t smile easily, but when he does, it’s soft, almost imperceptible—a small upward curve of his lips, as if he’s sharing a secret with the world. It’s usually reserved for his closest companions or his s/o, and it always feels like a moment of pure connection.

➳ Haldir has a very specific way of organizing his things. Everything in his quarters is meticulously arranged—his weapons are polished and aligned, his cloak folded precisely, and even his books or scrolls are neatly stacked. It’s a reflection of his need for order and control, a way to counterbalance the chaos of his responsibilities.

➳ He hates being complimented, but he’s way too proud not to show a tiny smile when it happens. Compliments, especially about his appearance or abilities, make Haldir uncomfortable. He doesn’t know how to handle praise and will often respond with a curt, “It’s nothing,” or brush it off as if it doesn’t matter. But if you look closely, you’ll catch that small, barely perceptible smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He’s not immune to flattery, after all—he just won’t admit it.

➳ Haldir’s hair is always impeccably maintained, but only because of a habit from his youth. As a child, he was often the one tasked with braiding and styling his siblings’ hair, a role he found strangely soothing. Over time, it became a ritual for him—now, he spends an unusually long time on his own hair to make sure it’s perfect, almost like a small, quiet act of self-care.

➳ Haldir finds it hard to turn down a challenge, even when it’s trivial. Whether it’s an archery contest or a bet on something as minor as who can hold their breath the longest, if someone challenges him, Haldir can’t resist rising to the occasion. It’s not about the prize—it’s the satisfaction of proving himself.

➳ Haldir is not great with children, but he tries really hard. He’s awkward and overly serious when interacting with younger elves, and sometimes, he tries to be “fun” by telling them old war stories or showing off his combat skills. It comes off as unintentionally creepy, though, because the stories are always more intense and somber than the kids expect. He’ll then awkwardly try to change the subject when he realizes how uncomfortable they are.

➳ Haldir likes to be the one to fix things, even when it’s not necessary. If something breaks or goes wrong around him—whether it’s a weapon, a piece of armor, or even something as small as a broken clasp—he’ll immediately take over the repair, even if it’s something simple that doesn’t need fixing. He finds comfort in being the one who solves problems, and if given the chance, he’ll fix something just to show his usefulness. But when someone else takes care of it without his input, he’ll sulk quietly for a bit.

➳ He gets ridiculously flustered when complimented. If someone calls him handsome or brave, his immediate reaction is to scoff or roll his eyes. But if you look closely, his ears turn bright red, and he suddenly has a lot to say about unrelated topics.

For Other characters headcanons so far.

[ladypiscesmoon]

Year ahead Timothée Chalamet (this reading was done on 1/3/2025) Personal year card: no 12 the hanged man

Overall feeling of 2024:

Follow your shining star

summer dreams

Last year his thinking was influenced a lot by others. He wasn't relying on his own intuition. Because after the Beyoncé concert, it was obvious he had made a mistake. He didn't know which way to go. He has to follow his heart. He should follow what it tells him. Even when others try to steer him away from that path. Heart over ego. I almost think he wanted to tick off all the boxes of being a young, famous actor. But it came with a huge price, he lost a big piece of himself.

overall feeling of 2025:

Starlight

angel of the secret glade

australian agate

calcite

Timmy has to cast away all the upsetting things from the previous year. In a way he has a new chance to do better this year. He has to reinvent himself in a way that brings him pleasure. He shouldn't endure what others want to make him do. He should say to himself: "I intend to live my life fully". Move on and live his life on his OWN terms.

He holds back too often to see how others feel about his ideas and thoughts. The universe asks him to look outwards not only inwards. He doesn't notice the spark that lies within him, he worries too much about others. He has to be brave in his thoughts and allow his actions to follow.

This year he's given the courage to tackle what seems at present to be a complex and somewhat insurmountable problem. He's got to stand his ground, yet keep his calm and not allow anyone to bully him psychologically or emotionally.

All concerned will soon realize the truth that he already knows for quite some time: this particular person in his life is not the person they present themselves to be.

With the calcite present, his energy levels are on the increase. he will soon find a new sense of vitality and enthusiasm for life. There's hope he will communicate better and people will pay attention and they will want to be part of his life.

What does he have to release from 2024?

Green witches: communication/productivity

he has to be clearer in his communication, let go of waiting until somebody tells him what to do. Let go of his fears, listen to his gut. He's got to talk to people he cares about, be frank and direct to them. The same goes for his team. People don't know what he really wants but if he wants to change things he has to speak up for himself.

His work /private life was out of balance last year. Being productive and do what he loves is a good thing, until he uses it as a coping mechanism to not address his own problems. He's compassionate and intuitive, but he didn't listen to what his gut tried to tell him.

The year 2025 as a whole:

Modern Lenormand deck:

the anchor/the cross/the moon, the tree/the stork/the moon, the mountain/the coffin/the rider

stuck in a area of life unable to move forward

a consistent person in his life giving him stability

a stable person

being the baby in the family

last chance: waiting for change

enduring his emotions

relying on spirituality

persevering even though something is extremely painful

something being cut off/long term problems

warning signs

blocking someone from being able to message

stopping a visitor

end of a problem

end to a suffering

sustained disconnection

staying after a disconnection

surgery for arthritis

chronic illness/slow illness arrives

an ending that's fated

risking being in a lot of pain

deciding to make a sacrifice

being more patient

metamorphosis

returning a dreamer

relocating of a celebrity

This year seems to be about sacrifice and patience. He's got to look at things differently and follow his own path. In an earlier reading I pulled something about his style and he's really playing with it at the moment. He wants a more 'adult-like' look, but not a boring or stuffed one.

He should take it easier this year, maybe a short break and think hard. But he can't have his cake and eat it too, so he has to sacrifice some things in order to feel happier again. Also there seems to come some illness coming his way, but it could be him feeling unwell(unbalanced and anxious and lonely) at the moment or it could be someone he loves being ill, or will be this year.

He could also be moving this year

Overall (LOVE)

don't give up on love

surprise: someone making a move towards him

hesitation; still being on the fence/overcoming a situation

many options

unconventional love

string along

welcoming love

open your heart

getting together, perfect

he seems to get genuine love this year, and I'm glad he will. The universe gives him the tools, he has to do something about it. He has to take a leap of faith. With heart on a key the universe is nudging him to finally take a chance in love, he shouldn't ignore the signs He has to make the effort. This person is from a past life. I think he will make an effort with all his personal relationships this year. He also had to think more through how his decisions will affect his loved ones.

Overall (CAREER/MONEY)

the high priestess reversed (blocked intuition, clouded insight, doubt, secrets, cognitive dissonance, disconnect, superficially, confusion, hidden motives)

7 of pentacles (long term investments, sustained patience, perseverance, hard work, success&waiting, harvest, results, profits, planning)

In the beginning of this year he will be lost and stuck. When he begins to have his healing and his inner journey, he will find enthusiasm and ambition again, but in a less manic way than before. He will be happier in his work too.

Overall (HEALTH)

2 of swords reversed

4 of pentacles

 At the moment his health is not the best. The 2 of swords reversed indicate that his natural defenses or his immune system are down. He's slowly admitting to himself he feels unwell. He has a lot of anxiety, mental distress and fear.

The 4 of pentacles can indicate a tendency to cling to old habits, patterns, or emotional baggage that may be negatively impacting his health. he may have been resisting necessary changes or holding onto stress and anxiety, last year and if he doesn't take better care of himself it could manifest as physical ailments or mental-emotional imbalances.

Month for month:

For this part of the reading I used the following decks; the Angel numbers oracle cards, the cosmic insights and the lucid dreams beginners tarot

January-April

(I took a picture but the last card of the angel cards has to be 555 in stead of 0303 (sorry for the mistake))

January:

333: social skills (hope, optimism liberation, success, prosperity, excitement, enthusiasm)

cycles (fate, karma, something ending, something beginning)

king of swords (mental clarity, truth, head over heart, reason)

Death (symbolic death and rebirth, big changes, time to move on, transformation, endings, letting go, release, starting anew)

It seems that Timmy feels a bit more clear about what he has to do. This is a new year and he feels like he has a new chance to do things differently. Something is ending for him and something else is beginning. It is time to let some things of the past go

February:

0808: swift action (wealth, empathy, promises, commitment, affection, inner strength, auspicious outcomes)

intimacy: sexual chemistry, reminiscing

the sun (pure positivity, ultimate happiness, joy, success)

10 of cups (happiness, divine love, blissful relationship, harmony, alignment, family, love&support)

February will be a good month for Timmy. He feels a lot happier and feels more supported by family/friends. His finances are improving. Someone is giving him a lot of love and that gives him strength to make some decisions. He will act swiftly to make his life better.

March:

222: Alignment (connections, family ties, romantic relationships, friendships, balance, life choices, compromise, commitment, trust)

baecation

three of pentacles

knight of wands

Choosing to do what makes him happy, trying to find himself again. Traveling or going on a vacation. feeling a lot more energetic.

April:

555: change, encouragement, support, obstacle, battle, calling, restructuring, creative work)

the devil reversed (recovery, leaving abusive, toxic situations, detachment, freedom, facing shadows, independence, reclaiming power, release)

patience (just a few more months, good things come to those who wait)

2 of cups (unified love, partnership, mutual attraction, romantic love, connection, mutual respect, joining forces, close bonds, unity)

Change is giving a bit of anxiety, but he will have a lot of support. Moving forward with a (romantic) relationship

May-August

May:

1212: persistence (shift, enthusiasm, gratitude, contentment, new experiences

take immediate action

lovely partnership/epic romance

commitment (things are getting serious)

8 of pentacles (dedication, hard work, talent, high standards. commitment, expertise)

6 of swords (transitions, leaving behind, moving on to calmer waters, distance, accepting lessons)

this month seems about getting the insight and moving on from painful lessons from last year. working on a new project, or a sequel.

June

777: good luck (contentment, prosperity, abundance, spiritual awakening, divine intervention)

being unsure of something.

not knowing how to get a message across to the public

sexuality (someone is still figuring themselves out)

ace of cups (new relationship, compassion, creativity, new emotions, emotional awakening, deeper feelings, proposal, spirituality, intimacy)

queen of cups (compassion, warmth, caring, intuition, healer, supportive, in the flow, empathy)

I think I can summarize this month: growth, in all aspects of his life.

July:

0909: new beginnings (great chance, opportunity, courage, accomplishment, endings, conclusions, big love)

spy (someone got their eye on you. you are doing your research)

the lovers reversed (self-love, imbalance, disharmony, break up, arguments, discord, bad choices, conflict, detachment, indecision)

9 of cups reversed (unhappiness, lack of fulfillment, greed, laziness, negative indulgence, ungrateful, disappointment, arrogance, underachieving)

You know what, last year was a disappointing year for Timmy. He was too arrogant, thinking that he could do almost anything and all his fans would love him. But a lot didn't and were very vocal about it. They critiqued his look, his choices, even his films. The pr went pear-shaped. The money he was welcome, because he does like this life style and the privileges of the rich. But, he's also a person who values his privacy and being so famous comes with a price. Everybody spies on him, he didn't know who to trust anymore. He really had to fall that deep into that trap in order to remember that he actually has other things he values even more in life. That it's lonely without love and friends and family. That he may not like it too much after all.

August:

1144: high vibes (divine intervention, prosperity, big ventures, fated events, faith, purpose, higher calling)

date night (get ready to be wined and dined)

6 of cups (stuck in the past, naivety, unrealistic, inability to let go or forgive, clinging)

5 of swords (conflict, disagreements, competitiveness, unfair defeat, winning at all costs, stress, hostility, aggression, bullying, intimidation)

This month he seems to get stuck in the past, rethinking about someone from his earlier love life, missing someone from the past, having rows with someone , maybe a romantic fling coming to an end, or thinking about a relationship that has come to an end

September-December

September:

2020: compassion (mercy, diplomacy, potential, service, recovery, adaptability, renewal)

his assumptions on something are correct

encouragement to stay true to himself

being of service to others

having an enormous potential

caution (find out more information, don't overwork yourself)

3 of wands reversed (delays, lack of planning and progress, setback, obstacles, frustration, unexpected delays)

king of cups (devoted, emotionally mature& balanced, intuitive, compassionate, supportive, empath)

It feels like a project is delayed, or a project he's doing at that moment will have delays. It feels like a delicate situation, could be something like a scandal, but it doesn't feel like it will be Timmy. It feels like someone else, but he has to be supportive and empathetic about it and trying to be diplomatic. Maybe it's a co-star or a friend that is going through hard times.

October:

0303: taking chances (success, knowledge, friendship, impatience, freedom, optimism)

seize the chances that are presented to you

do something out of the ordinary

welcome creative impulses in your work and personal life

have faith in your own abilities

challenges (make a decision, work on inner healing)

king of wands reversed (impulsiveness, ruthless, forceful, tyrant, domineering, weak leader, vicious powerless)

the hanged man reversed (delays, resistance, indecisions, standstill, apathy, selfishness, victim mentality, disinterest, stagnation, avoiding sacrifice)

There seems to be a set back, but Timmy should continue to work on his inner healing and there will be plenty of opportunities and chances to seize.

November:

9999: lessons learned (culmination, results, benefits, reflection, completion)

maintain optimism and drive forward to your goals

maintain your momentum, the powers of Heaven have your back

rewarded

guardian (a lost loved one watches over you)

the moon reversed (release of fear, secrets revealed, truth exposed, dreams, repressed emotions, clarity, understanding)

the star (hope, renewal, miracles, rejuvenation, faith, North Star, purpose, spirituality, inspiration, positivity, healing, inner clarity)

December:

1551: hold your vision (manifestation, abundance, money, dreams, vision and prosperity)

focus on the good and maintain your concentration the outcomes of your desire

yes (luck is on your side)

knight of swords (ambitious, fast-thinking, successful driven, assertive, direct, impatient, intellectual, daring, focused, perfectionism)

ace of pentacles reversed (lack of progress, immature, underachiever, missed opportunity, poor prospects, foolish, lazy procrastinator, missed chances)

Looking good for the last two months of the year IF Timmy continues on the path he was during 2025. He will have the luck on his side and a lot of things he wants to achieve will come to fruition. If he doubts himself again, there will be a set back and the luck will come to a still stand.

This concludes Timmy's year ahead. It looks promising, if he listens to his inner voice.

As ever: this reading is alleged and for entertainment purposes only.

Ask me anything if you want to know more about this reading or if something is unclear.

[my1interspatial2corner]

Batman and mischaracterization

It drives me nuts how inconsistent the comics are when portraying a character because essentially all comics are fanfiction created by artists that got hired by the company. So you got a fan who got the concept of Bruce Wayne as a character completely wrong and is writing bad fanfiction except it's canon and it's a mess.

Writers always seem to forget that Bruce Wayne isn't batman or his playboy persona, he's a weird middle of it. Bruce Wayne is a traumatized man who doesn't know how to properly convey his emotions and affection, a man who pours love from his broken cup into his children in hopes of mending his own past. Despite it all he is still a traumatized man, deeply mistrustful and wanting to take care of things himself in order to feel like he has some stability in his life. He isn't emotionless, he's a whole ass wreck but he hides it well, so much so it confuses himself. He hasn't processed properly the fact that his parents have died- he knows they're dead he just never allowed himself to grieve through it, not that it wouldn't have scarred him otherwise (he WAS pretty young) but it wouldn't have made him into a crime fighting vigilante by the night. And since he hasn't processed the fact it affects the way he acts, think and so on.

It's something difficult to portray and I understand that but by God does it make me go a little cocoo whenever Bruce Wayne is portrayed like a male alpha who punches and doesn't do emotions. Please give the man the depth he deserves, show that a man can be vulnerable yet strong, that someone can be scarred but loving in their own way, that despite it's flaws he's still a caring father who is trying his best. People don't just want to read a comic filled with fights they want to see character depth, something relatable, something complex, something human that speaks to you. Not what is essentially a caricature to what Batman is.

[dykedvonte]

I think it’s so ironic that the Pony Express escapes a lot if not all blame in discussion. I can’t even say I am excused from it but it’s just how hard people circle back to the characters alone without considering the environment they were made to be in.

Why would they design a ship where only two of the rooms lock? Not the bathroom? Not the sleeping quarters? We assume that all the companies in the universe are this shallow and careless to their workers but we explicitly know the Pony Express in extra vile. They are fed processed slop pack they can’t even really cook and the ration of those pack is meager at best. They hired and made people with a plethora of conflicting demeanors and beliefs work together on a mission where cohesion is important if not an outright necessity and punish them for not being happy about it. There’s no social protocols, not chain of command other than Captain’s word/choice and the only way to enforce that is with a literal firearm. They don’t allow them to celebrate freely and even took away leisure activities that would make them less stir crazy. They are only allowed a few hours of sleep despite their being no other real responsibilities or work on the ship, no matter the position or its importance. With any crew, with any level of synergy, this was a powder keg waiting for a spark.

I’m not saying characters that made mistakes didn’t make huge ones, but I think part of the horror is that at least for some (this is targeting Jimathan) those mistakes are partly made by a force of the hand. There’s a running theme of lack of choice and being forced into something and the very nature of how The Pony Express expected them to function plays a big part.

[muffingnf]

forever thinking about how nothing will be the same as before this situation and george won't be the same ever again. i just hope he will take of his mental health after this, no matter what it takes, even if it means he will be far more distanced

anon this is seriously making me suicidal

on a real note i mostly worry about how this will impact his ability to form connections and make relationships with other people. like imagine feeling too cautious to go near non-ccs because oh god what if theyre a secret fan or what if they put something online and ‘expose’ me. but then u can’t go near fellow cc’s either because you cannot tell who has genuine intentions and who just wants to fuck you over later down the line. and none of this is even shit fans like me should even be thinking about i cannot stress enough how none of this should’ve been public and i feel so fucking bad for him that he’s had to be so publicly vulnerable after being so private his whole career.

on another note i suppose dnf will be trauma bonded for life now

[sluckythewizard]

BUT IM NOT A WRITER. something strange possessed me to write my first proper fanfic in maybe a decade. be niceys to me but also grill me so i can get stronger. this one is a stupidly self indulgent bit between Soda and Emizel, a day or so after emizel was sired. CW for gore descriptions, but thats about it i think. image below is a snippet of the start. the rest of the whole dang thing will be under the cut. ive never posted fanfic ever in my life. read my tags for secret behind da scenes commentary

"Oh shit… I think hes dead…" It was another night, another patrol, another fight, and another win, for Emizel and Soda.

Under moonlight, under street light, under interwoven wires above, the two stood here in a quiet and damp alleyway. The air was drenched with the smell of a previous rain, and the puddles of said storm remain huddled in corners and pot holes.

One splashed as soda found himself stepping forwards into one. The residual adrenaline of the fight had left his body shaking, his heart still pounding, his wounds still throbbing. They had still won; or more-so, Emizel had won. A particularly nasty blow to the side had Soda reduced to the side lines for most of the fight, left to watch as his newly vampiric comrade had absolutely eviscerated the competition.

Emizel had only been turned a day ago, but it was impossible not to notice how it had changed him. He already acted so goddamn confident, so on top of the world, and this newfound power, newfound speed and strength, only built upon his insane ego.

The Fangs that they encountered here on this night stood no fucking chance. Emizel was too quick, too strong, and he easily chased off the rivals. It was only now, as the final unfortunate opponent had turned to flee, a clean clock in the jaw sent the human tumbling to the ground with a dull thump, and it did not move afterward.

Soda shifts his shoe out of the puddle, the cold seeping into his sock being one of the few things keeping his mind in his body in the moment. Is the guy breathing?

A low laugh bleeds from Emizel as he stretches his arms, licking his sharpened teeth as he stares off in the direction the remaining Fangs went. Soda knew that look on his face, the look of a tiger pondering on its next kill, he knew well that Emizel wanted to chase them.

But the guy on the ground.. It was one punch to the face, and the wicked crack sound that came from it had planted a seeding dread within Sodas chest.

As he steps forward, around the puddle, the resulting sound made Emizels attention click back over to Soda, the snap of his gaze making Soda flinch.

The two lock eyes, and Soda weakly gestures to the limp body on the floor. "The uh.. I think.. Is that guy dead?" He finally asks, having a hard time keeping contact with Emizels intensely red eyes.

Emizel turns his attention to said body, tilting his head as he goes to kick at the thing, turning it over. "Man no way hes dead, I punched him once." He mutters.

"Well, yeah, but his head almost twisted all the way around when you did.." Soda steps up to stand beside Emizel, the two boys standing with their hands in their pockets, down at this unfortunate, limp body.

"Should we hide it?" Soda asks, glancing back over at Emizel, who had.. An odd look on his face. He was clearly pondering something, but Soda could only guess whatever was going on in that brilliant head of his. He knew and trusted that Emizel was smart. If anyone could figure out what to do about this, it would be him.

But the lack of an answer had anxiety chewing at the back of Sodas rib cage, and after a second, he speaks up again, compelled to fill what he perceived as a tense silence. "Like.. I dunno, I've never uh... killed a guy..." He shrugs, prompting Emizel to let out a big sigh.

"He's not dead man, just out fuckin cold." Emizel kneels down next to the body, putting an ear up to its chest, and pondering on that for a moment. An uncertainty twists his expression, as he decides to instead place a hand on the victims throat, checking for a pulse. A moment passes, and seemingly finding nothing, he pulls back.

"Uh... Okay, so he might be dead."

Something about the confirmation from Emizel made a shiver run up Sodas spine. That, or maybe it was just the breeze agitating the cold water in his shoe.

"Huh… Damn.." Was all that Soda could really get to leave his mouth. Which was hardly a splash compared to the torrent that was slowly churning in his head. They just killed a guy. Or, Emizel just killed a guy. And it was so easy. They had to hide the body now, right? That was the usual progression here? Getting caught for murder was way more extreme than getting caught for breaking mailboxes with soda cans. It was so, so disturbingly easy. It really was just one punch. It's not like the Fangs are weak by any means, so just one punch? And this guy is dead? Forever?

Or, perhaps by human means, their rivals were fairly tough. But Emizel was on a whole other level. No mortal could stand up to him now...

"Hey, are you okay?"

The question had pulled Soda back from his head, his gaze flicking back over to Emizel, who was looking up at him with those eerie, piercing red eyes. Soda felt another shiver.

"Uh, ieah man, I'm all good." Soda nods, swallowing down whatever anxiety was bubbling up in his throat.

But Emizel didn't seem satisfied by his answer, standing back up and staring down his human comrade. Soda couldn't meet his eyes, his gaze instead traveling downward, and pausing on Emizels red, cut-up shirt. There was something off about the color, the way it seemed darker in some spots, brighter in others.. Wait, wasn't Emizel wearing a white shirt before all this?

The vampire boy seems to pick up on Sodas expression, following his eyes down to his shirt. "Oh, yeah! While you were on the floor, the knife guy got me a little" He says, a stupidly simple smile on his face. Soda was about to let out a laugh at how unbothered his friend seemed by it, but it gets caught in his throat when Emizel goes to pull his shirt up.

The sound of the bloodied fabric peeling away from skin made Sodas own skin crawl, but that wasn't nearly as bad as the sight of the intense gash running from his collar bone, down to his stomach.

"Oh, fuck dude!" Soda gasps, but Emizel laughs it off. Even despite knowing Emizel well, Soda was still surprised by just how much Emizel could shrug off. "Shit, doesn't that hurt, dude?"

"Oh yeah this fucking hurts!" he says with a laugh, his smile big and toothy and proud as he presents this egregious wound. Swollen and angry, pulsing with a slow heartbeat, and still oozing with thick, dark blood.

The sight of the split flesh, and the glints of bone beneath the dark, dark red all tugged at Sodas gag reflex, and yet he couldn't pull his eyes away. So Emizel's just been walking and talking so normally this whole time with his chest just cleaved wide open? Soda felt just as impressed as he felt horrified.

It wasn't until Emizel reaches down to poke at the abhorrent wound that Soda snaps out of it. Watching his friend press his fingers into the bloodied flesh, and slowly pulling it apart, allowing more ichor to seep from the gash, it was too much to watch at this point.

Soda reaches up to put a hand on Emizels wrist, the vampire boy stopping, and looking up at his friend.

Soda found himself freezing again when he locks eyes with Emizel. He was going to say something now, right? "U-uhm.." Is all he really chokes out, giving Emizels wrist a gentle tug. "D-do you. Uh. I suppose a hospital Isn't a place you can go anymore..?"

Emizel just smirks at that, letting Soda pull his hand away from the wound. "Oh, yeah no, but it's fine. I mean, I don't think it's gonna kill me" He shrugs. It was so, so impressive just how unphased Emizel was by all this. Fuck he's actually so cool.

"Well yeah man but it's like, still a bleeding hole. Like you're soaked in blood dude, I'm pretty sure that even a vampire needs that stuff on like, the inside." Soda rubs the back of his head, still unnerved by the sight of it all. "Vampires have like, super healing, don't they?"

"Oh yeah like, regeneration powers. I know I heal faster sometimes but I dunno how to just, activate it on command.." Emizel hums, his eyes narrowing down at his own injury, as if trying to will it into mending. Soda looks away, unable to watch that vile gash ooze any longer.

"I dunno man, how do they do it in like, video games?" Soda tosses the question out, trying to click together some sort of solution in his own head.

"Uhhh.. Huh, video games.." Emizel repeats to himself, chewing on the thought while idly poking at the laceration; until an idea audibly flickers to life in his head. "Oh, I just gotta refill my blood meter. Or whatever."

"Oooh yeah, blood meter!" Soda perks up, "Of course, see this is why you're the brains, man" Soda smiles, glancing back over to his cool friend, but immediately needing to look away again when the sight of that egregious gash tugs bile back into his throat.

While Soda averts his eyes, Emizels eyes wander back over to the body, and that classic 'Emizel has a bad idea' smile creeps across his face.

"Well, if this guys dead, I'm sure he's not gonna need all that blood.." He grins, kneeling down next to the body again.

The word 'wait' had hardly gotten the chance to crawl from Sodas mouth, before Emizel lifts up the arm of the unfortunate body, pulling the sleeve back, and immediately sinking his teeth into the exposed wrist.

The sound and the sight of blood gushing around Emizels teeth made Soda cringe, his hand impulsively coming up to aide his own wrist. An empathetic phantom pain made his wrist ache, his imagination simulating the feeling of shark teeth cutting into skin, sinking deep into the flesh, and clacking against bone. That was a lot of blood, that was streaming down the arm of this fodder.

A low growl bleeds from Emizel as he adjusts his teeth, cutting into more flesh, opening the wound further, and allowing a pulsing torrent of red to stream down his chin, onto his coat. It was an annoying thing, to clean blood out of clothing. Most of the Demons deemed it easier to just let the stains remain. But the night that Emizels throat was torn open, and liters upon liters were granted freedom from his human form, the unbelievable mess had practically changed half the color of Emizels iconic coat.

That was the first time Soda had ever seen that much blood from one person. And well. This would probably be the second.

The sight was unnerving, but it was impossible to look away. The alley was quiet, save for the distant bustle of a distant city, which made the noisy squish and squelch of teeth gnawing on flesh all the more apparent and nauseating.

Emizel had become a monster for sure, and watching it feed on something was… thrilling, in a way. It reminded Soda of feeding a pet spider, or lizard. A mouse for a snake.

It's a heavy thing to witness, the end of a human life. The fear of death is a primal thing, and Soda was no different from any other living thing. He figured everyone else feared death just as much as he does. Well, maybe except for Emizel, of course.

It made sense. Emizel was such a cocky and noisy kind of guy, but hes always had the power to back it up. Even when he lost, or seemed at his lowest, Soda still saw this sort of fire in him, one that Soda admired.

Of course Emizel would be the one to become something like a vampire. Something that Soda had always figured was just a fantasy creature thing. He wondered; if vampires were real, what else was real? Werewolves? Zombies? Unicorns? Are there real demons? Like from hell? Is hell real? Is he going to hell?

The sudden ttteeeeaaaaarrrr of flesh rips soda from his wandering thoughts. Emizel was tugging his head away from the arm of his kill, his teeth clamped down into the chewed meat, and pulling it apart. Soda had seldom seen so much of the inside of a human arm, and the sight of spilling threads and squirming veins was hardly something he ever wanted to stomach again.

"Oh fuck, dude, hey-" Soda steps forward, raising a hand, but the way Emizel snaps his head back over to him, twisting to an unnatural degree, Soda cant help jolting back.

Reddened teeth glint menacingly in the low light, a threatening growl thundering from its clenched, dripping jaws. Emizels eyes were focused, yet wild, glowing with whatever light they could reflect.

Sodas eyes were wide, and his body was frozen in the thick, electric tension within the air. It was like staring down an angry dog.. Suddenly a light bulb in his head flickers to life. It was kind of like an angry dog, right? One hunched over a meal it didn't want to give up. Memories of old encounters and unfortunate dog bites resurface in Sodas head, and with that experience, and with those lessons learned, he gathers the courage to react.

He shuts his eyes, keeping them closed for a few seconds, as he slowly pulls back his arm, and slowly steps back. It was an eye contact thing, wasn't it? Eye contact makes dogs angry, right? That was how you dealt with an angry dog? As he pulls back, and takes in a breath for composure, he finally dares to peek at the angry vampire before him again.

Its snarling had died down, but its eyes were still trained intently on Soda. After a tense, and agonizingly, slow pause... It blinks back, lowering its head back down to its meal, but keeping its anxious stare on this potential threat.

A relieved sigh falls from soda as the tension finally melts. He didnt realize he was holding in so much of his breath. "O-okay, man.. It's yours, you uh.. Earned it.." Soda mutters, stepping back further, until he was standing in a sufficiently dry enough space to sit down in. Now that he wasn't standing, he was finally taking into mind just how much his hands were shaking.

It's odd. Soda couldn't really describe this feeling thrumming in his chest as something like fear.. Nausea? For sure. Disturbed and rattled? Oh absolutely. This was certainly a sight he would have a hard time scrubbing from his eyelids when he sleeps tonight. But he wasn't scared. The memory of the night that Emizel was sired still coated the inside of his mind like an unwashable film. Even in that moment, when the unnatural teeth from the unnatural maw of an unnatural thing hovered over his throat, he couldn't say with confidence that he was scared.

Emizel really is his best friend in the world. And he knows with his whole heart that Emizel feels the same. He knew and trusted that his best friend would never hurt him. Not too badly at least. He loves Emizel, and would give anything to support him.

Like a mouse to a snake.

This really is an incredible power that his comrade had come across, and Soda especially felt a sort of pride in his friend. He felt it was worth it to help him feed it.

The bile in his throat had made its point, and Soda agreed, that watching someone die, and get torn apart and drained might be too much for him. Despite how much he hated the Fangs, the end of any human life seemed like such a jarring thing. To have such an intense fear finally get confronted. Would he go to hell?

Maybe he couldn't just feed people to his friend. So an alternative could be donated blood, right? Soda wouldn't mind giving up something like blood. His body makes it for free, after all. Maybe some other Demons would agree to give up some blood too. But they shouldn't have to take on such a burden. Soda wouldn't mind being the only one. The only one. The only one.

His hand comes up to rub at his neck, as his imagination conjures up what it might feel like to have teeth sink into his flesh. He's been stabbed before, is that sort of what it would feel like? Would he have to get stitches? He didn't really want to get stitches, so maybe there could be a more effective way to get the blood out of him. And there was so much vital stuff in his neck too. There's' a vein that's safe to cut into somewhere, right? He would have to look that up later.

A STARTLING RINGING;

Splits the moment,

Prompting both Soda and Emizel to jolt in shock,

As the phone in Emizels pocket rings away.

Acting as if nothing abnormal had taken place, Emizel pulls out his phone, and answers it.

"Heyy, Johnny! Yeah we chased em off, I don't think those bastards will be infesting this street again anytime soon. Yeah, ieah we'll be heading back soon. Oh fuck yeah dude, save us some!"

Emizel covers the speaker of his Nokia, turning back to Soda with a big smile on his violently bloodied face. "They got some pizza waiting for us back home, dude!" he whispers out to him.

Soda does his best to crack a smile, and to suppress the look of unease that probably stained his face, as he stares at the literal murder scene that's been splattered about in front of him.

"Oh, yeah, hell yeah man.." He swallows down the bile again. "What kind of uh.. Soda did they get?"

Emizel ponders that, before turning back to the phone to ask Sodas question.

"Sprite and a big pack of that one strawberry mountain dew" Emizel tosses the answer back over to Soda, who gives a nod, and thumbs up.

Mountain dew is so neat, Soda really liked all the wacky flavors those guys come up with. The thought of going home and opening a can of soda was certainly a comfort. After witnessing all this blood and gore and viscera, Soda absolutely needed to get back home and get a nice cold glass of something bright red .

As Sodas mind wanders off to soda, Emizel wraps up the conversation on the phone, before hanging up, and standing up.

The movement had pulled Sodas mind back into the moment, enough for him to timidly voice a concern he's had since the start of this debacle.

"Uh, hey, so.. The body, should we… Uh.." He gestures vaguely to it, and Emizel grants it a nonchalant glance.

"Eh, I can toss it into a dumpster or something, I dunno. I'm sure its fine. I'll handle it."

The vampire boy goes to pick up the corpse, the wound in its mangled arm no longer even dripping with blood, the flesh pale from the absolute absence of red in its veins.

"Go ahead and meet me by that one mailbox, the one with the bullet hole in it." Emizel casually instructs, tossing the drained body over his shoulder. "I'll catch up."

"Uh, yeah, okay.." Soda musters up a nod, and the strength to rise back up to his feet, wincing as that bruise on his side makes itself loudly known again. He still felt anxious, but even despite it all, he knew he could trust Emizel to take care of things. He always does. "Just stay safe man, I'll see you there." Soda assures with a smile, and Emizel matches it, tossing him a wink. And then suddenly- -He's gone! If Soda had blinked he would've missed it, but he was fortunate enough to just barely catch the glimpse of Emizel darting off at an inhuman speed, probably looking for a place to dump the body. Right, he would take care of it. Emizel always makes sure his crew is taken care of. Well... Guess all that's left for Soda is for him to walk back to that meeting spot. He looks around the alley for a moment, taking in the sight of that enormous pool of blood in the middle of the concrete. Or whatever the floor of this alley is made from. He ponders on the present moment a little longer than he meant to, the shock of it all leaving him aimless for just a few, soothing moments of just, decompression. The night is quiet, vast, and cold, but the stresses of just the past 5 hours had left his body radiating with fiery aches and pains, so the chill of the occasional clawing breeze was welcomed. Except for when said breeze agitated the cold water still soaked into his sock. He should step in another puddle on his way back to even it out. The smell of rain still rested heavy in the air, heralding another storm on the horizon. There was that, and then, well, there was also the blood. The stench of it felt far too intense to just ignore it, the metallic miasma making itself maliciously unmistakable. Maybe the impending storm will wash this mess away... He looked forward to putting this unfortunate night behind him. With one last rattled, but deep breath, he stuffs his hands in his pockets, and turns away, strolling back over to the mailbox that Emizel had described.

He couldn't wait to get home and drink some soda with his friends.

[sskk-manifesto]

(´･ᴗ･ ` )

[s0dium]

Stalker

A/n: I hope you enjoy

Warning: Stalker!Gojo, dub con, fingering, pussy drunk Gojo, unprotected sex, peeping tom, male masturbation, breeding

As the strongest sorcerer alive, Gojo Satoru knows he should be the epitome of justice, the defender of what's right. So out of all people Gojo Satoru should know that what he is doing is wrong. Very wrong.

Yet despite this he cant help but be drawn to you, linger around you, stalk you. He finds himself drawn to the places you frequent, learning the rhythm of your life, memorizing the small details that make you, you. The coffee shop where you start your morning, the park bench where you read during your lunch break, the dimly lit street you walk down on your way home. In his mind, a narrative builds—a story where he is a part of your world, where his presence matters to you as much as yours has inexplicably come to matter to him.

For a time, Gojo convinces himself that he can be satisfied merely as a shadow in your life, lingering on the periphery, unseen yet ever-present. But as each day passes, witnessing your coworker's blatant glances towards you, Jesus, the short skimpy clothes you wear, the delicate balance begins to fracture. The urge to step out from the shadows and into the light is starting to grow to hard to resist.

The tension reaches its crescendo one evening as he watches from your window—a routine that has become his dark solace. You're preparing for bed, the familiar motions shadowed in the dim light. As you slip under the covers, a sudden sound pierces the silence: moans, soft and whining, drift through the air.

Are you, touching yourself?

Gojo freezes, his heart stuck in his throat. He doesnt know what to do. The sound of your moans cuts through the stillness, sending his heart into a frantic rhythm and hout blood coursing to his dick.

"Fuck." He groans, feeling his member strain against his black pants. His resolve is slowly snapping by the second. With a mixture of urgency and caution, he silently eases the window open and slips into the room.

Shit shit shit.

He approaches your bed, his breath is held tight in his chest as he takes in the sight before him. Your face is contorted in pleasure, lips slightly parted, a soft pant escaping them—each detail more intoxicating than the last. Under the covers your hand shifts, fingers moving back and forth. His heart hammers against his ribs, disbelief mingling with raw emotion as he realizes you're completely absorbed in your own world, unaware of his presence.

It's not until he looms over you that you finally sense another presence, snapping your eyes open to gasp, "Who are you?"

"Shhh baby I'm not here to hurt you I promise," Gojo whispers, a gentle yet firm assurance in his tone, "I'm here to help you okay? You can call me Satoru."

Confusion flickers across your face as you stammer, "What I don't—" Your instinct is to retreat, but he gently pins you down, his hands firm yet careful.

"It's okay, it's okay, baby," he soothes, his tone meant to calm and reassure you in the soft darkness.

Unsure why, you find yourself yielding to the comforting timbre of his voice, allowing him to press tender, feathery kisses along your chin.

"I'm gonna make you feel better better ok?" He hums and you're too engrossed in the feeling of his kisses on your skin that you barely notice he is pulling your underwear down your legs.

"Wait, i don't, this is-" you stutter but your words melt away as soon as you feel his warm touch on your stomach. Shit, you know you should resist, you know how wrong this is—a stranger in your room, touching you in such an intimate manner. Yet, there he is, devastatingly handsome under the shadowy caress of the night, his piercing blue eyes locking with yours, filled with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. His voice, smooth and soothing, weaves through the thick air, and despite the alarm bells ringing in your mind, you're desperate for the relief he seems to offer.

You sharply gasp when you feel him slide a long finger between the lips of your cunt, collecting your juices before bringing them up to your sensitive clit.

"Already so wet aren't you."

Without a warning, Gojo slips a finger into your gummy walls and curls toward your belly button.

"M'Satoru!" You gasp. The foreign intrusion knocks the wind out of you and your hips instinctively buck into the air, your toe-curling from the sudden pleasure. You dont know it but Gojo is struggling to maintain his composure as well. The reality of your whines, the softness of your insides, surpasses even the wildest of his fantasies.

"This is bad baby, really bad, I don't think I can just touch you here." Gojo chokes out with a groan.

You dumbly nod, too lost in the pleasure to notice the unbuckling of Gojo’s pants. The pressure of his fat tip against your quivering hole is exhilarating and you can’t help but hold your breath as he finally pushes in. You let out a loud moan when you feel his tip smush against your cervix once he gets down to the last inch.

"Ah-Ah ah oh god," Gojo groans. He mentally curses himself that he could ever think his hand could replace the feeling of your cunt. "You feel good baby? Because I feel so good, you feel so good." Gojo is babbling now as he thrusts in and out of you.

You had no strength to answer him, only offering wanton moans in retort as he continued to wreck your body with his completely brutal thrusts. The pain of him hitting the tip of your cervix nearly every time mixed his messy kisses on your mouth made your brain grow light and fuzzy.

Gojo thinks that if there is a heaven, this is surely it. All those times watching you, following you home, fantasizing about this exact moment—none of it prepared him for the overwhelming reality of being inside you, of fucking you. He can practically feel your heartbeat sync with his, the sheer intensity of this connection he had desired since he laid eyes on you made him realize something he never did before; he needs you all to himself. forever.

Gojo uses you like his personal cock sleeve, shapes your insides and bruises your cervix until your entire body jolts with sensitivity; ripping orgasm after orgasm from you. His balls slap against your ass with every drop and he retracts his hips until the tip pokes out to admire the sheen dripping to his base before fitting himself back into your snug walls and spilling ropes upon ropes of cum into your womb

Your body trembled from the overwhelming hotness and he smoothed a hand over your bloating stomach.

“Shhh, take it. Take it all,” he crooned.

[itsoutrageouss]

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley being ready to go on his knees for his favorite nurse… but he has no idea how to show it.

Then he sees you at the pub.

It settled inside of him as a feeling of uselessness because he’s so used to knowing what to do. He takes action. He fixes things. And now he gets all flustered when you tend to his wounds, absentmindedly stroking his thigh and talking to him so so sweetly. Calling him a good boy when you finish the stitches, biting your lip as you focused on making them as neat as you could for him. He would stare at you the whole time, his cheeks heating because no one ever showed him this much care and you didn’t even seem to struggle with it- it was all natural.

You had labelled him ‘favorite patient’ in your phone but he didn’t know that. He figured you behaved like that with all the soldiers who came in- the reason you were such a good nurse.

After a well succeeded mission, the task force and the bases Staff all crowd down to the nearest pub. It was an excuse for you to finally be out of your work attire, adorning a black lacy top that made you feel sexy along with your glossy lips. He was already there, leaned back in a booth with Soap and Price as you walk in, looking around nervously.

He has to grit his teeth as he sees you. Fuck fuck fuck. This was gonna be a long night. He fisted his hands beneath the table.

This feeling of hopelessness, of not knowing what to do was so foreign that it bubbled into anger. Price frowned, noticing the rigid way his Lieutenant suddenly sat. Soap was too busy telling some story to notice anything, slamming down a hand, the beers rattling. Your colleagues crowded you into a booth that so conveniently faced him.

Why did he look at you like that? He was positively fuming, glowering, brows lowered and face set. You cowered under his gaze, eyes flickering away nervously.

His lips parted in soft surprise. Why did you look so nervous? Had he done something?

Because of course he was no clue how damn intimidating his so called love stare stare is. He follows you as you walk to the bar, leaning over, your skirt riding up. He has to blink up at the ceiling because it felt simultaneously like a gift from above, being allowed to see you like this, and like a curse from hell.

“Oh he’s down bad for her ain’t he, that fucker?” Soap exclaims, finally catching on as he lets out a hearty laugh. Simon glares.

“I think LT needs another pint” Price muses. Soap, ever the sergent he is, groans and gets up, patting Simon heavily on the shoulder before walking up to the bar next to you.

“You got him weak in the knees, Bunny” Soap grins casually, ordering the pints. It takes you a few seconds to comprehend before you lean backwards slightly, catching Simon’s gaze. This time he averts his eyes immediately. He was fucking fuming inside, not knowing how to get these feelings to go away. The only solutions he could think of were violence or sex. And violence he’s had enough of- and he’s sure the training dummies had too. Every damn night these past days he’s been punching his knuckles bloody, hoping it would satiate his restlessness. It didn’t.

And as for sex… he didn’t- well he didn’t not want that but that’s not where he wanted to start. He always threw himself into hookups or fiery flings that burned out too quickly, leaving embers he didn’t care for. He didn’t want that with you. He wanted to be genuine, slow, proper. And he had no idea how. He didn’t like not being good at things.

Your eyes stay on him, forcing his head to turn back to you. Your expression is unreadable, his fingers curling beneath the table before he rapidly stands up. You almost jolt at the action, the floor creaking from his weight as he stalks over to you and Soap, grumbling something.

Soap leaves, Simon trying to casually lean his elbows on the bar. “Just gonna wait for the pints” he tells you, then his jaw ticks because why did he say that? You probably don’t give a fuck what he’s doing there.

You smile softly, intrigued. “How’s your shoulder?”

It startled him, his head whipping to yours like you said something totally out of sorts. His shoulder? Right— It takes him way too long to answer.

“Fine. You did a good job. As always,” he said gruffly, looking down at the chipped wood of the bar, drumming his fingers impatiently.

“You look good.” The words slip past his lips, eyes quickly giving you a once over.

“I know.” He looks at you, sees a small glint in your eyes and the smile you smother. He wants to groan out loud at the sight.

A dry, almost laugh escapes him, shaking his head softly. “F’course you do.”

There’s a long, awkward silence where you both look anywhere but at each other, spines straightening, then slumping, then you both look at the bartender to keep busy.

He places your drink in front of you, three pints clattering in front of Simon. Neither of you move to take them.

“So I’m gonna go” Simon rumbles and turns, the pints clutched in his hands. He was overheating, fumbling in ever possible way he could and he couldn’t take it. You opened your mouth but he was already halfway across the room.

The pints rattle as he sits down. “So?” Soap asks as he leans forward. Simon grumbled that this isn fucking high school. But it’s not Soap he’s mad at. It’s himself. He had you right there.

You can’t focus the rest of the evening, laughing hollowly and sipping your drink with disinterest. Did he not find you interesting? It was so hard to read him that you started to doubt if he was playing with you. Maybe this was just the way he… was.

You hadn’t noticed everyone going out for a smoke. You hadn’t noticed the way he looked at you through the window like some kind of fucking stalker, only the glow from his cigarette giving colour to his shadow.

You down the rest of your drink, pulling your coat around you. The night is crispy, air poking your cheeks like needles.

“Are you ever going to ask me out? Because if not then I’d like to know- I don’t really know if you don’t like me or if I scare you or if there’s something entirely different at play but you cannot just stare at me and expe-“ a cold, chapped pair of lips silence you. They’re gone as quickly as they came you Simon’s eyes are wide, dropping his cigarette to the ground.

“I’m sorry- do you wanna- can I ask you out? I didn’t mean to do that but you talk a lot” he said bluntly, stuttering his way through his own mortifying actions.

He kissed you. To shut up your mindless yapping he… you shake your head in disbelief.

“You are unbelievable” you say, but there’s absolutely no malice in your tone- only wonder.

“Is that a yes?” He asks, his throat feeling tight.

“Yes. It’s a good technique you have there- do you do that on everyone? Kiss them when they talk too much? I can just imagine how Soap would rea-“

He did it again, eyes closing and inhaling sharply as he covered your cold cheeks with his hands. Christ you were a talker but he didn’t mind so much, if he was allowed to quiet you like this from now on.

[eloquentlytired]

Logan with a breeding kink fic? 😉

18+ mdni

— raw.

pairing: logan howlett x fem reader

word count: less than 900

tags: unprotected sex — breeding — logan is feral — just filthy smut — risky sex — dom/sub undertones

author’s note: hi anon I hope this was a good read for you. logan having a breeding kink is so incredibly canon honestly

ৎৎৎ

“lo.” you moan as you lie facedown on the bed, legs straight, hips slightly raised. logan enters you from behind and the way he stretches you in this position has you whimpering. one of his large hands puts weight on your head and forces you to bury it against the bedsheets as you sob beneath him. his other hand stays on your middle to kind of support himself as he fucks you, driving his veiny cock into your deepest parts. the bed creaks beneath your moving bodies but you don't seem to care. logan grunts as he feels your pussy clenching around his cock, coating it too with your arousal. “still taking your pills like a good girl?” the shake of your head makes his hips slow down and gradually stop. you tilt your head at an awkward angle to stare at him and he stares back. “w—we ran out.” you whisper, voice still laced with arousal and need. logan weighs his options as his eyes drift downwards where his cock is completed soaked by your wetness and even his pubic hair drip with the doings of your pussy. his bare cock twitches inside you and you moan. “not safe,lo. let's just—”

there's not much you can do in this position when logan starts thrusting again. you take what he gives you and your eyes roll back when the fat head of his cock kisses your sweet spot, making your entire body shake all over. tears of pleasure slide down your cheeks and he leans down to kiss a tender spot on your shoulder before biting down. he grounds his hips in circles and you almost scream. “there— there,lo.” you beg him and he repeats the motion again and again. when your pussy tightens around him as you cum, logan growls into your shoulder and you can sense him growing more feral over you. your hands grip onto the bedsheets for dear life as you drool and cry against the mattress. logan drives his cock faster inside you and a few more thrusts later he fills you up, leaning the weight of his lower body on yours that his cock nudges impossible places within you. it makes you squirm and logan offers you a reassuring kiss as he pants against your shoulder, trying to process the raw feel of your walls around his bare girth.

“fuck.” you hear him curse minutes later and when you look back, your eyes widen. logan slips his softening cock out of your pussy and watches as his own come drips out and over your cunt. you exchange a silent and long stare and then logan is moving you again. you don't know what's happening or why but you're about to.

you've lost count and you've also lost any sanity left for the time being. you drag a hand over your belly as logan pumps his load inside you again, making your thighs shake from where they sit atop his own. you're laying on your back this time while he gets comfortable between your spread legs, breeding you until the late hours. “one last time. I swear,baby.” he lies through his teeth again and you allow it. logan slips his hands underneath your legs and shoves them back until your knees are nearly touching your chest. his cock is still hard and leaking — he'd really done it this time — and he wants to blame your bare cunt for wrapping around his cock so perfectly. you're tired and your pussy feels a little sore but you can't help but reach a wandering hand to your clit and rub it as logan fucks you mercilessly. his balls are heavy and drag against you with each shallow thrust. your entire body shakes and your other hand remains atop your stomach; you're full, so full, and your toes curl when you think about how much of logan’s seed you've stored in your womb.

“lo—” you're letting go again, your entire body spasming as your fingers shake against your swollen clit. logan’s eyes narrow when he watches you squirt beneath him and one of his hands is moving down to toy with your pussy, his fingers moving past yours and past your clit to tease the source of your squirt. it makes you cry and nearly scream. logan feels his balls tighten and before you know it he's already giving it to you again, spilling everything inside your pussy to make it full. to make his seed take place. “lo.” by the time you call for him he's already slipping a hand around your nape, clutching it, while his other hand joins your own on top of your stomach.

your lips meet and logan soothes you. “so pretty, so sweet. you took so much in ya, princess.” and his whispers make you tremble even more as you kiss him back slowly. his kisses are nothing like the way he fucks you; they're slow, patient and gentle. logan hums into your mouth as you wrap your arms around his neck. his fingers flex upon your stomach, even doing so much as squeeze it. he loves it. “how ‘bout we forget about those pills?” logan growls.

his cock doesn't stay soft for long and when his hand presses into your tummy possessively, you know exactly what awaits you.

[earthlybeam]

I struggle with chronic migraines, and I’m stuck at home with an awful one. I was wondering if you would mind writing something about Elrond taking care of a partner with a migraine? Thank you so much for sharing your writing. It’s absolutely incredible ❤️

I’m so sorry to hear that you’re struggling with a migraine right now. I hope you’re able to find some relief soon. Thank you for your kind words means so much 🥹❤️‍🔥 And enjoy my dear ❤️‍🩹🫶✨

Elrond suffers from chronic migraines from his insight so Elrond knows exactly what to do for you 💙🦋✨

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Lord Elrond Version below

📜 𝓔𝓵𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓭

✶ Elrond’s Care for His Partner During a Migraine Though Elrond himself has witnessed many pains throughout his long life, he is all too familiar with the struggles of chronic migraines, having endured them occasionally in his own way. This makes him especially empathetic and attentive when it comes to caring for his beloved during one of their painful episodes.

✶ Understanding and Patience as Elrond knows that migraines are not just physical pain but often include sensitivity to light, sound, and touch. He is patient with you, understanding that words may not come easily, and he speaks in a soft, calming tone, offering you gentle reassurance. His presence is quiet, soothing, and always deeply aware of your needs. “Meleth nín, I understand the pain that clouds your mind. Rest now, and I will be here, silent as a shadow, until the storm has passed.”

✶ Dim Lighting and a Quiet Space Since Elrond is keenly aware of the sensory overload migraines cause, he would gently guide you to a room with soft, dim lighting or perhaps a quiet corner in Rivendell. The sun may be setting, and he’ll carefully draw the curtains, letting in only the faintest rays of twilight to ease the intensity. The soft flickering light of a few candles is all that is needed in the space he creates, ensuring there are no bright, harsh lights or distractions. He will lower his voice, allowing you a calm atmosphere where you can focus on rest.

✶ Tender Care as Elrond’s touch is always gentle and deliberate, especially when your migraine is at its worst. He would sit beside you on the bed, never forcing any contact, but simply offering the comfort of his presence. His hand might hover over your forehead, cool and soothing, or he might lightly massage the pressure points along your temples and the back of your neck to ease the tension. His magic as a healer extends here, his healing arts focused on calming and alleviating your discomfort. If you’re open to it, he may use an herbal balm or brew a calming tea made from elvish herbs to soothe your senses, gently guiding your hands to hold the cup as he watches with caring eyes. “Let the peace of Rivendell enter you, Meleth nín. Drink, for it will bring rest to your weary mind.”

✶ A Soft, Soothing Voice as Elrond knows that words can be both comforting and grounding. In the silence of the room, he might softly speak to you in low, melodic tones. He recalls stories from Middle-earth, especially from a time when he was younger and healing from his own physical struggles. These stories are quiet, designed to ease your thoughts away from the pain. Sometimes, his voice might even be a simple, tender reminder of your love and the future you share “There are many who walk under the stars, but none have seen them as we will, together, hand in hand.”

✶ Presence Over Action Even if you do not speak, Elrond respects your need for solitude. He would not leave your side, but instead remain quietly within reach. His calm presence fills the room, offering peace without words. When you’re ready for his touch again, he is there. If you need silence, he will give you that, just as you wish. The deep bond between you means he knows when to speak, when to wait, and when to let time work its magic.

✶ A Cool, Comforting Atmosphere If you are too warm, Elrond will gently arrange cool cloths on your forehead or your neck, feeling the temperature carefully to ensure it’s just right. He might open a window to allow a cool breeze from the river to drift in, and he always makes sure the air is fresh without any disturbances. His elvish senses are finely attuned to ensure the environment is precisely right for healing. “I will make this world quiet for you, love. Rest and let your body and mind find solace.”

✶ Gentle Reassurance and Tenderness His concern for you is woven into every action, and his deep care for your well-being will always show. If you need to talk, he listens, and if you need quiet, he knows the comfort of silence. He will not rush you, but instead offer space for you to heal in your own time. Elrond will often give small, unspoken gestures of affection, like brushing the hair from your face, kissing your brow softly, or even holding your hand, simply letting you feel the warmth of his presence. His every action is intended to provide comfort without overwhelming you.

✶ Mindful of His Own Struggles Though Elrond would never let his own discomfort distract him from your needs, he is aware of his own sensitivity to migraine-like pains. There are times when his heightened senses become overwhelming for him, too, and he understands the exhaustion that comes with migraines. This shared experience allows him to connect with you on an even deeper level. Perhaps he, too, will take a moment to rest beside you, closing his eyes for a while to simply experience peace with you.

✶ Elrond is not just a healer in the sense of curing physical ailments, but a master of emotional support. His gestures are deliberate, slow, and filled with love and concern, ensuring that you feel as safe and cared for as possible during this painful time. His patience, wisdom, and empathy make him the perfect companion in moments like these.

Elrond Caring for His Partner with Chronic Migraine.

Lord Elrond’s soft footsteps echoed faintly against the stone floor of Rivendell as he entered the room, his heart immediately heavy at the sight before him. You lay on the bed, your face contorted with pain. The migraine had returned, and this time, it felt as though it might never relent. He could see it in the way your body was curled tightly against the ache, your hands gripping the sheets as if trying to fight against an invisible force. He knew this pain all too well. He’d watched it claim you time and again, each bout more merciless than the last. The pressure building behind your eyes, the way every sound, every shift of light became a dagger piercing through the calm. It was familiar to him, almost a shared agony. He longed to take it away, but he knew that, like him, you had to weather the storm in your own way. His heart ached for you, the person he loved more than anything in Middle-earth.

The world felt distant, hazy at the edges, like you were trapped beneath a layer of fog. Your mind was at war with your body as the migraine pulsed relentlessly. The pressure behind your eyes was suffocating, a constant, throbbing reminder that you were powerless to escape. It felt like time had stopped, like the world was spinning around you, but you were caught in the stillness of your own pain. You couldn’t remember how long you had been like this, lost in the torment. The silence in the room was oppressive, but not unbearable—not with Elrond near. Gently, he knelt by your side, his hand reaching for your forehead. His fingers brushed against your cool skin, a soft touch that was meant to be a comfort more than anything else. The strands of hair that had fallen across your face were swept aside with tenderness. When you felt the familiar touch of his fingers brushing your forehead, it was like a small ripple in the storm. His presence was your anchor, the only thing that kept you from completely succumbing to the darkness inside your head.

“Peace, my love,” he murmured, his voice a gentle balm against the harshness of the world. His heart swelled with love for you, but it was accompanied by a deep frustration. He wished he could take all the pain away. But for now, all he could do was be here. As pulling you from the edge of your thoughts. It was low, soothing, and for a moment, the pain seemed to soften around the edges. You wanted to respond, wanted to tell him you were aware of him, that you appreciated his care, but even the effort of moving was beyond you. You tried to shift slightly, to turn toward him, but the movement only made the pain worse. The weight of the migraine pressed on you like a thousand stones, keeping you pinned to the bed. You couldn’t fight it, not now. But you didn’t need to. Elrond’s steady presence was enough. His touch, gentle and tender as always, was a steady reminder that you weren’t alone in this. You could feel him close to you—his warmth, his love—like a shield against the cold, hard reality of the pain you were enduring. His hands were so gentle as they brushed your hair from your face, and though you couldn’t manage more than a flicker of a response, the act itself was enough.

You barely stirred, your breathing shallow and slow. He could see the tightness in your brow, the way your lips pressed together as you fought against the agony. Elrond knew you had become accustomed to these moments of suffering—knew how much you hated to be a burden, hated to be seen in this vulnerable state. Yet, he would never see you as anything but the light of his life, and this was no burden. He had to remind you of that—remind himself too. He moved toward the window and drew the heavy curtains tighter, shutting out the daylight that pressed in, leaving only the soft flickering of candlelight to illuminate the room. The darkness wrapped around you both like a comforting blanket, and he felt your body relax a fraction as the room became softer, less harsh. When you heard the soft rustle of fabric, you realized that the light had changed, and the soft glow of candlelight filled the room. The sunlight that had made everything worse was now gone, replaced by the comforting shadows of the room. The change was subtle, but it was enough for you to breathe just a little easier.

When he returned to your side, Elrond hesitated for only a moment before lifting your hand in his, holding it gently in both of his. You hadn’t even noticed when Elrond had sat beside you. But now, his warmth enveloped you as he took your hand in his, his touch both a comfort and a promise. His warmth was a quiet reassurance that you weren’t facing this pain alone, that you never had to. His hand held yours with such tenderness that it almost made you want to weep. You didn’t have to fight this battle by yourself. He spoke quietly, though his heart ached at seeing you in such distress. “Would you like some water, or perhaps a cool cloth?” he asked, though he knew you were too tired to answer. Still, he needed to offer the option. He never wanted you to feel as though you were powerless, as if you didn’t have a choice. The sound of his heartbeat, steady and strong, began to drown out the pounding in your head. The warmth of his hand anchored you, and for a moment, the pain seemed almost bearable.

You couldn’t respond, your eyes barely open, the weight of the migraine too much to bear. He didn’t press. Instead, he simply stayed, his hand steady in yours, offering his presence. Your gaze flickered, and you managed a small, almost imperceptible movement, your fingers tightening around his just slightly. He was there, he realized, in the way you sought him without words. The gesture meant everything. Even in the depths of your pain, you still found strength to reach for him, to let him in. Elrond leaned closer, his thumb brushing the back of your hand slowly. It was the only way he could think to reassure you, to remind you that he was there. “Rest, my love,” he whispered softly, his words as much for himself as for you. “I am here. Let go of your worries.”

Your eyes fluttered closed again, and Elrond watched you for a long moment, tracing the curve of your jaw with the gentlest touch. He stayed by your side, not wanting to leave you even for a moment. He knew this pain, this battle, and though he could not take it from you, he could stand by you as you fought it. His love was a steady thing—constant, undemanding, and he hoped, a balm for your soul. Elrond sat beside you, his thumb brushing the back of your hand with a slow, steady rhythm. He could feel the change in your breathing—slower, more even—though the migraine had not yet passed. His love for you swelled in his chest, and with it came a quiet promise that he would stay with you, no matter how long it took. He knew how much this hurt you—not just the pain itself, but the vulnerability. The trust it took to let him see you like this, to let him care for you in this way. There had been a time when you would have hidden this suffering from him, when you would have tried to endure it alone. But now, here you were, resting beneath his touch, allowing him to shoulder some of the weight.

His heart swelled with love, and he allowed himself a moment of gratitude for you—your strength, your trust. His thumb moved over your hand once more, each stroke a silent vow. The migraine had not released its grip on you, the world still a blur behind the relentless throb of pain. Every breath felt too much, every sound like an assault, each faint light an invasion. You wanted to retreat, to escape the pounding in your skull, but all you could do was endure. And yet, even in this agony, you could feel Elrond beside you. His presence was a steady warmth, a quiet comfort that anchored you in the storm. You clung to it, even though the rest of your senses were lost to the pain.

You weren’t sure when Elrond had returned to your side, but you could feel his warmth beside you now. His hand hovered near your forehead, cool and gentle, like a whisper of peace against the fire that burned behind your eyes. The faintest pressure of his fingers, just a soft caress, sent a ripple of relief through the storm, as if his touch could tame the ferocity of the migraine, if only for a moment. His presence, steady and unyielding, was like a shelter—a safe harbor amidst the chaos. Elrond’s voice, soft and soothing, broke through the haze of your mind. “Let the peace of Rivendell enter you, meleth nín. Drink, for it will bring rest to your weary mind.” You felt him carefully lift your head, his movements gentle, as if you were the most fragile thing in all of Middle-earth. His hands were firm yet tender as they guided the teacup to your lips. The scent of the elvish herbs was calming, delicate like the first breath of spring. The warmth of the tea, mixed with the soothing aromas, wrapped around you, inviting you to surrender. Despite the weight of your pain, you felt an instinctive pull to trust him, to take whatever comfort he offered.

With the smallest movement, your fingers barely brushing his, you took the cup into your hands. Elrond’s eyes were on you as you sipped, his gaze filled with nothing but care and love. You could feel the coolness of the porcelain against your fingers, the warmth of the tea against your lips, and yet, it was Elrond’s quiet presence that truly calmed the storm inside you. “Thank you,” you whispered, though it was barely more than a breath. Your voice was hoarse, almost drowned out by the intensity of the migraine, but Elrond heard you nonetheless. His heart swelled at the simple expression of gratitude, a reminder that even in your deepest pain, you could still reach for him, still let him in. “You do not need to thank me, my love,” Elrond replied softly, his voice full of quiet tenderness. “I would do this a thousand times for you, if it meant easing your burden, even for a moment.”

His hands remained steady around yours as you drank, guiding the cup to your lips with a grace that seemed almost effortless. You could feel the magic of his healing flow through him, a quiet force that washed over you, coaxing the tension from your shoulders, loosening the tightness in your temples. The tea, cool and fragrant, slid down your throat like a balm, and the effects were immediate. The pain didn’t vanish completely, but it softened, as if the sharpness of the migraine had been dulled, made bearable once more. Elrond waited in silence, watching over you, his eyes never leaving your face. He could see the subtle changes in your expression—the slight loosening of the tension in your brow, the way your breath became just a little bit steadier. He remained by your side, sitting on the bed with you, his warmth radiating in the quiet space between you both.

When the cup was empty, he gently took it from your hands, his fingers brushing yours as he did. His touch lingered for a moment longer, a promise that he would stay beside you, through every storm. “Would you like more, meleth?” he asked softly, though he knew that sometimes, all you needed was his presence. Your gaze met his, and despite the pain still clinging to you, there was a flicker of something—perhaps gratitude, perhaps something deeper. “No,” you whispered, your voice coming back with a little more strength. “Just… stay with me.” Elrond’s heart fluttered at your words. Without hesitation, he moved closer, his hand resting lightly on the bed beside you, offering his presence without asking for anything in return. He knew, after all, that sometimes all you needed was for him to be there, steady and unwavering.

“Always, my love,” he murmured, brushing a lock of hair from your forehead with the gentlest of touches. “I will stay, for as long as you need me.” His hand moved slowly to the back of your neck, gently massaging the pressure points there, soothing the tension that had built up from hours of pain. His touch was light but deliberate, each movement meant to ease your suffering. You felt yourself relax into the softness of his hands, the sharp pain in your head still there but no longer consuming you. For a long time, neither of you spoke. There was no need. Elrond’s presence filled the room, steady and unyielding, and you let yourself drift into it. His quiet healing, his gentle touch, his words of love—they were all you needed in that moment.

The storm within you hadn’t passed, but with Elrond beside you, you knew that you could weather it. His love, his care, were the things that would carry you through. And with each passing moment, the pain seemed a little less unbearable, softened by the tenderness of his touch and the healing magic he wove around you like a protective veil. “Sleep, my heart,” Elrond whispered, his voice a quiet command. “Rest now. I am here, and I will not leave you.” And as you finally allowed yourself to drift off, the weight of the migraine still pressing but dulled by the balm of his presence, you knew—no matter the pain, no matter the struggle—he would always be there, watching over you, offering his love, his care, and his steady warmth.